Duplicity
by Kenobi Skywalker
Summary: Maglor's given a chance by one of the Valar to right some wrongs. He accepts after visiting Elrond, but Maglor has no idea what's in store for him and is unprepared for the many shocks he's forced to face when he's thrown into a world of the past. His top priority: destroy the Silmarils. Thankfully, Maglor discovers he's not alone in his quest. Will they succeed? Or will they fail?
1. The Chance

_**Alrighty, this is my newest fanfiction I've written! About our dear Maglor Feanorian earning a chance to make things right again! I'll be honest right now and admit that I have yet to finish reading The Silmarillion, but I have gotten started it and am reading about Feanor's greatest invention, but I've heard a lot about it so...if I happen to get anything wrong, just tell me and I'll do my best to correct it! Thanks! Anywho, here we go! Please, enjoy. Constructive criticism most welcome!**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Soft notes drifted through the air as a wordless melody was eerily carried further down the coast by the wind. There was an undercurrent of overwhelming grief, pain, and guilt skillfully woven together in the tune as it was sung by the unseen minstrel.

If there were any who happened to be passing by, they would have been affected by the amount of emotion poured into the mournful melody. The wandering minstrel sung of events long-forgotten by mortals but forever remembered by the Elves. Events that caused much heart-break, pain, and sorrow to the Elven race and that had destroyed many nations. He sang of the Kin-slayings, of the Oath, of the accursed jewels, and of the Mad Elf that started it all.

He sang of the fallen, of the afflicted, and those who were lost during those horrifying days.

He sang, but there was no one there to listen. No one who would understand his pain and the guilt burdening his shoulders. He was utterly alone. There wasn't anyone to accompany him- to comfort him. But he didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to care. This was what he deserved. He deserved to live a life of loneliness, reflecting on his past deeds...He refused to allow himself to give into his grief for to him, death meant happiness.

He most certainly did not deserve happiness, no matter what anyone told him. He may have been the most reluctant of his family who wished to partake of such foul deeds, but he still committed them nonetheless. He was guilty of choosing to follow, even if it was out of love and loyalty. There was still blood that stained his hands, and a mark that would never fade away regardless of how much time had passed.

The dark-haired Elf continued to sing, gliding along the shoreline of the open sea, his eyes closed as he allowed his feet to take him wherever they pleased. He knew these lands better than most, seeing as he had been wandering along their boundaries for thousands of years. Over four thousand years had past since Feanor had created the Silmarils, and he was still wandering along the shores of Middle-Earth.

Distantly, he wondered if his brothers had been released from the Halls, or if the Valar had refused to forgive them and allow them another chance for a more pleasant life in Valinor.

Valinor...

If he wanted, he could travel to Valinor and stand before the Valar for judgement. He could be tried before the Gods and forgiven, possibly, as some of his extended family members had been, but the minstrel couldn't bring himself to go.

And so he remained, traveling the lands lining the sea, singing songs to himself, as he often did.

'Atar...' The harpist thought to himself, tilting his head up and opening his deep blue eyes to stare at the darkening sky. It was going to storm- again. 'Why did you do it?' He silently wondered, feeling empty. 'Why did you have to create them? Were we not enough?'

Along with those jewels, Curufinwë Fëanáro had created a world of terror and had destroyed a family. One by one, the Fëanorions were cut down and slain. Only he remained.

Macalaurë Fëanorion.

But, he no longer went by that name. He was called Maglor now. The only living Fëanorion left in Arda. Macalaurë had died the moment those Silmarils had been created. Maglor was all that remained.

With another sigh, Maglor continued on, listening to the waves lapping at the shore. He remembered the day Nerdanel, their beloved Naneth, had left. He admired his mother for her courage and strength. She was able to do what they could not. He knew Nerdanel was safe and sound in Valinor, and would hopefully be there when his brothers were reborn- If they were ever reborn. How he missed her.

How he missed everyone.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Maglor willed away the tears that threatened to spill.

He would not cry! Not again! He had already shed so many tears... Besides, what would be the use of crying?

Deciding it was time to retire for the night, Maglor turned away from the shore and vanished into the shadows of the forest nearby. Stealthily creeping along, Maglor strode deeper into the forested area, searching for some sort of shelter that would provide some protection from the storm brewing on the horizon.

Not too long into his journey did Maglor discover a small cave hidden by a small group of trees. Deciding that was all he would find, Maglor slipped inside the cave, settling the few items he had down onto the ground before preparing a fire. Even though he was an Elf, he still needed warmth. The grief he still clung to caused Maglor to feel cold every so often. It also caused him to become ill for a few days, inhibiting him from traveling until he had regained his strength. It was during those times that Maglor would remember how he had cared for Elrond and Elros when they would fall ill. He remembered the techniques human healers had taught him in caring for an ailing child. He would feel some warmth return when he thought over the many bright and cheerful memories he had of his foster sons and Maedhros. The time they had spent together as a small family had been the best few decades of Maglor's life.

Elrond...

He wondered how his child was doing now. He knew, from one of his rare visits to Imladris, that Elrond had become Lord of Rivendell and that Elros had long-since passed away. He also knew that Elrond had married and now had two twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir.

Speaking of Elrond... Maglor frowned as he recalled the words Elrond had spoken to him during his last visit to Imladris. The Peredhel had appeared rather worried and confused, and when confronted by Maglor, Elrond finally confided in him what he'd been troubled with.

 _'I had a vision, Atto.'_ Elrond had said, blue clashing with deep grey as the Peredhel met his foster father's gaze. _'One that revolved around you.'_

 _'Am I in danger?'_ Maglor had asked, unconcerned for his own safety. He knew many still sought after his life, and he could hardly blame them. Elrond had shaken his head, though his brow furrowed.

' _I'm not certain.'_ Elrond had admitted, looking even more troubled. ' _I only know there is something in store for you. Something that cannot be taken lightly.'_

Maglor had grinned in amusement at this. _'Only something?'_ He then frowned at the serious expression Elrond had pinned him with as the Peredhel spoke again,

 _'Atto...Whatever it is, it is important that you move forward with caution. You will be treading on thin ice. One wrong move can cause everything to spiral out of control. I have a feeling that you have the lives of thousands in your hands. Arda will be depending on you.'_

Maglor had merely raised an eyebrow at this. ' _Surely you are exaggerating, iónya.'_

 _'Nay.'_ Elrond firmly shook his head, raising his head to look at Elendil's star. ' _I do not jest. This is not a matter to take lightly. What she revealed to me-'_

 _'She?'_

Elrond's grey eyes swiveled over to meet Maglor's. ' _Din...Din Amarth was her name. She visited me in the vision; spoke to me of a journey you must partake of- if you so choose.'_

 _'Din Amarth?'_ Maglor had repeated, frowning deeply. The name was a rather daunting one.

' _She did not say anymore.'_ Elrond was deeply disturbed, and Maglor had a feeling he had kept some things he'd seen in the vision to himself. He sensed there was more to it than just what Elrond had told him. ' _A chance...'_ He had caught Elrond mumbling under his breath. ' _She is giving you a chance.'_

 _'A chance?'_

 _'She did not clarify her meaning. She only said that she was allowing you to have one chance. One, and if you should fail...'_ Elrond had trailed off, leaving Maglor wonder what he had wanted to say.

He had a good idea what Elrond would have said, but Maglor still was unable to understand exactly what Elrond had been trying to say to him. It had been several weeks since the conversation, and nothing had happened, leaving Maglor to wonder if Elrond had, perhaps, misinterpreted the vision.

Almost immediately, the thought was banished from his mind. For some reason, Maglor had a strong feeling that the words Elrond had spoken were true, and it worried him. Frightened him even. Even though it had been three years since then, Maglor thought over the words Elrond had said to him daily. Almost every night. He sensed that the time for Elrond's vision to come to pass was drawing near.

Even though his thoughts were crammed with these worries, Maglor eventually began to fall asleep. His eyes glazed over as his breathing steadied and it wasn't long until he was lost in the worlds of dreams.

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

"Maglor." A quiet voice whispered.

The minstrel stirred at the soft voice but did not wake.

"Maglor." The voice came again, a little louder, but not too loud.

The Elf remained in deep reverie, much to the hidden being's irritation. "Maglor!" A small orb of light danced in the midst of the darkness of the cave, gradually brightening as it tried to wake the sleeping Elf.

Thankfully, Maglor awoke on the third try, causing the light to still and wait for him to become aware of his surroundings.

The dark Elf blearily blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. Confusion was etched in his features as he slowly sat up, wondering what had woken him.

"Thank the Valar!"

Maglor started, startled by the voice and snapped his head towards the light flickering in front of him. Shifting until his back hit the wall of the cave, he watched as the light grew larger and larger.

"It is about time! I have been trying to get you to wake for a while!" The voice impatiently huffed.

Maglor could only stare, wondering if he had finally lost his mind. It was the only logical reason he could use to explain this... odd occurrence. The light had transformed into a beautiful woman with black hair that fell just past her shoulders and sharp, lavender, orbs that seemed to pierce right through him. He moved uncomfortably under the stare, feeling as if she was reading his very soul, but for some reason, he relaxed. The woman, he seemed to know, didn't pose any danger to him.

The woman had her hands on her hips, looking down at him as if she had caught him being a naughty elfling and were about to lecture him. Distantly, it reminded him of his own Naneth when she'd caught Maglor and Maedhros stealing snacks from the kitchen late at night. "I've been searching for you for several weeks, you know." The woman told him, tsking. "If it hadn't been for the milady finally having mercy on me, I would probably still be wandering who-knows-where."

"Forgive me," Maglor finally seemed to find his voice and leisurely stood, his gaze never wavering from the strange woman. "But may I ask who you are?"

"Oh!" The woman blinked and took a step back in the air. "Right, introductions. Sorry." She apologized. "I am called Din. Din Amarth. A Messenger."

That name...

Immediately, Maglor's mind thrust him back to when he and Elrond had talked about the Peredhel's vision. Elrond had mentioned the name Din Amarth, claiming that he had met the woman in the vision. The supposed woman who was apparently going to give him a 'chance.'

' _Well, Elrond...'_ Maglor thought to himself. ' _You were not lying about the vision.'_

"No, he wasn't. You knew that already." The woman said, crossing her arms and tapping her fingers. Maglor sharply looked to her, his dark blue eyes widening marginally.

The woman smirked at this. "That isn't important right now." She waved a hand dismissively in the air, then growing serious, added, "I came here to offer you something. A chance, as I told your foster son."

"I remember." Maglor slowly nodded, wondering where this was headed.

"Right. So, you can choose whether or not you want to risk it. If you choose to, good for you. If you choose not to," She made a face. "Well, that's on you."

Maglor quirked an eyebrow at this. So, technically...He did not really have a choice? From what he understood, she was urging him to take this chance and persuading him not to brush it aside.

"What is this... chance you are to give me?"

Din Amarth pinned him with a solemn look. "The chance to make things right." She vaguely declared.

The minstrel frowned, not quite understanding what she meant. "To make things right?" He repeated in a questioning tone, hoping she would clarify her meaning.

"I will make this brief." Din nodded to herself then faced him. "Basically, you are being given a chance, by one of the Valar, to right some wrongs. There were many grievous sins that were committed in Arda Marred." In a grave tone, she pointedly stated, "Some of which, _you_ participated in."

Almost at once, the meaning behind her vague words hit Maglor with such force that the minstrel nearly stumbled back in surprise. Memories of Arda Marred swarmed in his mind. The Kinslayings, the Silmarils, their banishment... his mind was plagued with those horrifying memories as they danced across his vision. He no longer saw the woman, even though he was staring right at her, the heart-breaking and dark events of the past coming to life around him.

He could see the fire, the blood, and the bodies that littered the battlefields. He could see the Silmarils in all their glory blindly radiating their light from where they were embedded in a dark crown, a stark contrast between black and white. He also saw his family. His brothers following after their Father and their Mother, grieving over the loss of her loved ones. Pained, Maglor could feel his heart being ripped apart as he recalled everything he had shoved in the darkest corners of his mind.

"If you were to accept this chance," Din's voice broke through his warring thoughts, smooth and calm but laced with a hint of warning, "You could change everything. You could save them."

The word 'them' held such heavy meaning to Maglor, for he knew exactly of whom the woman spoke of.

"Elrond did not exaggerate when he proclaimed that you had thousands of lives in your hands. Arda would be depending on you if you were to do this."

Maglor hesitated. This choice was not one to make lightly, yet, there was one thing he needed to know. "Would I-" He began, speaking with caution, "-if I were to go, would I still be bound to the Oath?"

A haunting chill enveloped the entire cave, chilling Maglor to the bone as silence encased them.

Din pursed her lips tightly at the mention of the Oath, and even Maglor felt a shiver spiral down his spine. After what felt, to Maglor, to be a long while, the woman parted her lips to speak,

"Yes and no." She uttered quietly, bewildering Maglor. That was not the answer he had been hoping for. "It would depend on you."

"I see." Maglor murmured to himself, averting his gaze to the stone ground of the cave. If he were to take this chance, Maglor would bear the weight of the world upon his shoulders... Could he do it?

Was he willing to?

Did he even have to ask that question? Maglor wanted to do it. He wanted to change everything! He had wanted this for so long... Too long, it would seem.

"You will not be alone." Din abruptly spoke up, snatching Maglor's attention once again. She mysteriously smiled, her eyes shimmering. "There will be others... Others who are just like you."

"Like me?" Maglor tilted his head, wondering what she meant.

"You will see later. Time is running short." Din glanced around the cave, as if expecting for something to be there. "I have little time left. What is your decision?"

Maglor parted his lips to speak then snapped his jaw shut. He had to make this decision _now_?

"You were given a forewarning." Din cheekily reminded him. "And don't worry! If you were to go, I would become your Guide."

"Why you?" Maglor inquired, curious as to why she was giving him this chance.

"Because I was the one who accepted this task- _willingly_ , I might add."

"That does not answer my question." Maglor bluntly stated, and Din shrugged.

"That is all you will get for now. Everything will be explained in due time." She nonchalantly said. "So, your decision?"

So much for buying time.

"I will go." The words tumbled from his lips before Maglor had even thought about them and Din visibly brightened.

"Marvelous!"

Before he could say anything, Maglor was overcome by a wave of dizziness. Staggering, the Elf fought to keep his balance as his vision went berserk. The world tilted in so many odd angles that the harpist squeezed his eyes shut in order not to become nauseous.

"Don't worry about a thing, Maglor," He heard Din saying, and he clung to her voice as if it were his lifeline, "Just let yourself go." She advised.

"And remember, She will be watching over you. If you need anything, call my name and I will come."

Those were the last words Maglor heard before the Elf fell forward, giving into the pull of the darkness overwhelming him. His body never once hit the ground, and Maglor felt himself falling through nothing but air. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, the minstrel clutched his harp close to his chest before allowing himself to succumb to unconsciousness.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

When Maglor came to, it was to find himself surrounded by hundreds of trees. He was not in his cave and he was definitely no where near the shores of Middle Earth. The very air was different to him, and everywhere he looked, Maglor was struck by a sense of déjà vu. Raising himself to his knees, Maglor sharply analysed his surroundings, hardly daring to believe it.

It hadn't been a dream... He surmised as he slowly raised himself up onto his feet, turning himself around in circles as if trying to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming. He was truly there... He was truly back in Valinor! He knew these forests! He knew these very trees!

He knew he knew them!

"I cannot believe it..." Maglor breathed in disbelief, his tone akin to awe and reverence. "I cannot be here..." Spinning sharply on his heel, Maglor darted into the shadows of the forest, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He continued to run without stopping, searching for proof. Proof that he was truly there.

The sound of roaring waters was nearly drowned out by the sound of his heart beating in his ears, but Maglor heard it nonetheless.

Skidding to a stop at the edge of the forest, Maglor stared, wide-eyed, at the view before him. It was the same waterfall he and his brothers, including Feanor and Nerdanel, used to visit and play in thousands of years ago, when he and his brothers were but elflings.

The crystal blue water sailed over the edge of the rocky cliff, tumbling down into the pool below, creating a white foam at the bottom of the waterfall. He remembered every little detail. It was etched into his mind as though he'd visited the waterfall only yesterday.

"Hmph," He bitterly smiled, "Thousands of years, and yet I still remember every cursed detail of this land." He grimaced as he turned away and located the path that would lead him to the bottom of the cliff. "I wonder what the year is." He murmured to himself, rolling his head back to stare up into the sky. It was cloudy, and he could smell that rain was on the way.

Fantastic.

All he wanted to do was find shelter, curl up, and sleep the night away. Maybe if he went home-

Maglor jerked to a stop, snapping his head up.

Home.

He could go home. He could see his brothers! His brothers were alive! Their Naneth was home... Maglor could feel hope blossoming in his heart as he thought about the home he had missed for so long. Since he was back in Valinor, he could see Maedhros, Celegorm, Caranthir, and even little Amrod and Amras! He would see Daeradar Finwe and possibly his cousins and uncles-

"No." He immediately growled, shaking his head and banishing the thoughts from his mind. "I can't. This place is no longer home. I have no home." He reminded himself, sorrow latching onto the ends of his words. "I am no longer Macalaurë..." Pained, Maglor bowed his head in grief. How he wished to be Macalaurë again. He yearned to be the naive, innocent, young elfling he once was.

Before the Silmarils were ever created.

"Curse you, Atar." Maglor muttered darkly, remembering the Silmarils vividly. Subconsciously, he curled the fingers of his burned hand. Eyeing the wounded appendage, Maglor carefully tugged off the black glove he wore over the hand. Turning it over so that his palm was facing upwards, Maglor stared at the burn the Silmaril had inflicted upon him. There was a red circle in the center of his hand where he had held the jewel, and a large crack that ran across his hand from the skin having split open because of the heat.

The wound had never healed.

Thankfully, it had been his left hand that Maglor had chosen to pick the Silmaril up with. It still incapacitated him, however. Anytime he wished to play an instrument, he couldn't play as long as he used to. His left hand would ache tremendously, and even freeze up if he used it too much.

Slipping the glove back over his hand, disgusted by the burn, Maglor continued his journey. He knew he would need to return 'home' sooner or later. If he wanted to change everything for the better, he would need to face everyone again. He would need to find a way to keep his Father from forging the Silmarils and protect his family.

He wanted his family, mainly his brothers, to live a better life. One without pain, grief, or agony. One where they could live happily together, without scorn or any animosity directed towards them because of their Father. He would save them, and he would save the thousands of innocent lives that had been claimed by the kinslayings and wars.

But...How would he do it? How could he perform such a grand deed?

The Silmarils.

That is what is always came down to.

Destroying those Silmarils was Maglor's top priority.

And he would do it... No matter what the cost.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Having reached the bottom of the path a few moments later, Maglor leaped off the edge of a large boulder and quietly landed on the ground below. His harp, however, decided to slip from his hands and skid down the rocky ledge towards the pool.

"Rhaich!" Maglor exclaimed, lunging after his beloved instrument without a thought. He managed to snatch the silver harp up before it had a chance to vanish beneath the surface of the clear water, much to his relief. Straightening, Maglor quickly put his harp into the small pack he carried, ensuring that he wouldn't drop it again. "Valar, that would have been terrible." He told himself, patting his pack.

"What was that?"

Maglor's ear twitched, having heard the low, but musical, voice coming from the trees behind him. Sharply turning his head in the direction of the voice, Maglor narrowed his eyes, his hand resting on one of his knives resting against his hip.

"Not sure, but it came in the direction of the waterfall." Another voice replied.

Maglor froze in shock, his expression morphing into one of stunned disbelief. Those voices... It couldn't be! It was too soon!

Slowly backing away, Maglor waited for the voices to speak again so as to convince himself that he wasn't imagining them.

"Only we know of that waterfall." A third voice chimed in, this one darker than the others, and Maglor immediately recognized it.

Oh no... Maglor raised a hand to cradle his head, as though he were in pain. It was impossible!

"Clearly, we're not the only ones."

They were getting closer.

Maglor frantically tried to think of what to do. Should he stay there and allow himself to be discovered? Should he run?

Wait, run? Why would he run?

He was unable to make his decision when a dark haired Ellon emerged from the darkness of the forest. Instinctively, Maglor unsheathed his knife and expertly cast it in the Ellon's direction. The thin, but lethal, blade flew straight and true, slicing through the Ellon's tunic sleeve and pinning it to the tree behind him.

"What in Eru's name-?!" The Ellon sputtered, staring at the knife. Another Ellon burst from the trees, having heard his brother's cry and barely avoided being struck by another knife.

"Valar!" The golden-haired Elf staggered back, crashing into a third, dark-haired, Ellon.

"What is going on here?" The third demanded to know, taking in the sight of his brother stuck to a tree and helping his other brother regain his balance. Jerking their heads in Maglor's direction, the two newcomers, who'd been reaching for their weapons, paused in surprise, their eyes widening. "Wha..?"

Maglor returned the stare, watching them closely, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this was truly happening.

The first Ellon he'd pinned to the tree growled in frustration as he tried to loosen the knife, and, upon hearing his brothers' abrupt silence, raised his head to see what had caught their attention. His dark expression immediately melted away into shock as the golden-haired Ellon cautiously stepped forwards and called,

"Macalaurë?"

Without warning, a glint of bright light flashed through the air towards the golden-haired Ellon.

"Tyelkormo!" The third Ellon exclaimed, watching as 'Tyelkormo' jerked to a stop. The golden Ellon stared down at the sword barely touching his chin then his blue orbs flickered up to meet Maglor's in confusion.

"Macalaurë?" He questioned, not daring to move an inch. There was something wrong, he could sense it. Something was very wrong with Macalaurë. He was different. Why would his own brother raise his blade against him?

"What are you doing, Macalaurë!?" The Ellon, who had managed to free himself from the tree, growled, menacingly moving forward to flank the second Ellon. "Put your blade down, muindor!"

"Who are you?" Maglor demanded to know, narrowing his eyes on the three, never once relinquishing his hold on the blade he held.

"What?!" The third gaped at him, gesturing towards himself and the other two. "What do you mean 'Who are we?!' It is I, Curufinwë! Surely you remember Tyelkormo and Morifinwë! We're your brothers!"

Maglor shook his head, his dark hair swaying from the movement, his hand wavering slightly. Tyelkormo, Morifinwë, and Curufinwë. The very Ellons Maglor knew the voices did truly belong to. But, was it truly possible? There was still some doubt in Maglor as he examined his supposed 'brothers.' He had no reason not to believe them, and yet... It was still difficult for him to accept this.

Before he could ask any more questions, a voice hollered,

"Tyelkormo! Curufinwë! Morifinwë!"

Maglor felt his heart come to a complete stop at the voice, standing stock still. That voice... He would never forget that voice. It was one he knew well. One he had missed greatly, and yet, felt bitter towards.

Neither of the three Ellons responded as a taller, more imposing, Ellon wandered into the small clearing where the waterfall was located. Maglor felt as though his world had come crashing down as he turned his head to face the newcomer.

The Ellon had a unique shade of red hair that cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, two braids woven together at the back of his head so that they fell as one, and deep blue eyes that regarded the scene before him with astonishment.

Maglor studied him intensely, hardly daring to breathe. The same red hair Maedhros had been well-known for, the same warm blue eyes, the same crimson colored clothes his brother always wore... And of course, he was tall. Several inches taller than Maglor.

There was a tense silence that fell over the clearing as Maglor and the red-haired Ellon regarded one another, one with suspicion, and the other with disbelief and hope.

It was the tall Ellon who shattered the silence first, calling out Maglor's childhood name quietly.

"Macalaurë?"

Maglor shook his head, blinking several times as he tried, but failed, to convince himself that this wasn't happening. "No. No, no, no." He hissed to himself, closing his eyes. He knew it was true. Deep down, Maglor knew. Then, why was it so hard to believe in it?

Shock. He must still be in shock.

Yes, he was in shock. That was what it was.

"Macalaure?" Maedhros called again, making his way towards the Elf. Maglor took a step back when he saw Maedhros coming his way, panic seizing his being. He didn't realize he had dropped his blade and didn't even think before turning tail and fleeing from the clearing. "Macalaurë!"

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

 ** _Alrighty. There you have it. I hope it was interesting! The second chapter should be up soon._**


	2. Family Reunion

_**As promised, here is the second chapter! I hope you enjoy this story! It's been on my mind for a while, so I decided to give a shot at writing it. Again, I'm still in the process of reading the Silmarillion, since my dad was kind enough to buy it for me, so if I get anything wrong, just tell me. I greatly appreciate constructive criticism.**_

 _ **Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters (Sadly), other than Din Amarth. Everything else belongs to Tolkien!**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Nelyafinwë had grown concerned when his three younger brothers never returned from their hunting trip. He wasn't the only one. Nerdanel was also worried. The Elleth had been pacing back and forth in the Family Room with her hands tightly clasped behind her back as she waited. The clouds were darkening, telling them that a storm was approaching and it had been hours since the three Ellons had left, and that only added to their concern.

Every once in a while, Nerdanel would glimpse out the window in the hopes of seeing her sons walking through the gates of their home, but they never came. Heaving a sigh, Nerdanel settled herself on the window sill, staring out into the distance as she waited in paranoia.

"They will come, Nana."Nelyafinwë finally spoke, wishing to put his mother's concerns at rest. Nerdanel flashed him a weak smile, thankful to have her eldest with her. His presence helped to calm her greatly, and he was helpful with her six other sons.

Her _five_ other sons, Nerdanel somberly reminded herself.

"I apologize, my son." Nerdanel softly whispered, wringing her hands in her lap. "Ever since Makalaurë's disappearance I've been..." She trailed off, her forest green eyes dancing with grief and pain. She didn't need to say anything. Nelyo knew exactly what his mother was going to say.

Nelyo said nothing for a long while, his blue orbs reflecting the pain that his mother felt.

Makalaurë. His dear younger brother. Fëanaro's second oldest. It had been nearly a decade since Makalaurë had mysteriously vanished. In fact, it had been exactly a decade since the minstrel had abruptly disappeared. Ever since that accursed day, the family of Fëanaro had been in a state of grief. They had received many consolations from the Noldo and their family, but nothing served to lessen the pain of losing Makalaurë.

Fëanaro had been spending most of his time in the Forge, forging numerous different projects that would come to his mind. Nelyafinwë and the family knew it was his way of trying to cope with the loss of his second-born. Makalaurë's fate was still unknown, and after a few years had passed without any sign of the minstrel, he'd been proclaimed dead.

Nelyafinwë remembered the day as if it had only been yesterday. He, Tyelkormo, Curufinwë, and Morifinwë had spent several weeks out in the wilderness, trying to locate Makalaurë's trail in the hopes of finding him. Everything they'd done had been in vain. Never once did they come close to solving Makalaurë's disappearance. Worn down by grief and pain, the brothers finally succumbed to the belief that Makalaurë was dead.

Well, most of the brothers had. Nelyafinwë still clung to the sliver of hope that Makalaurë was alive. He never said anything about it, knowing he would immediately be rebuffed for his beliefs, but, for some reason unknown to him, he felt Makalaurë was still alive.

The reason why was simple, yet also complicated.

Not even a few months had passed since Makalaurë had seemingly vanished without a trace did word spread that another Elf had also disappeared. Finwë, Arafinwë, and surprisingly, Fëanaro had traveled with their families to visit Nolofinwë's home to see if the rumors were true.

They arrived to find a a tired and worn Nolofinwë vainly searching for the lost Elfling. He had appeared so exhausted, lost, and grieved to Nelyafinwë when they met with him. Nolofinwë had sorrowfully told them the tale of how the elfling had been allowed to go for a simple ride through the forest and how the elfling had never returned. So many searched for the elfling, but neither found any evidence as to where the little one could be.

It had made Nelyafinwë suspicious for many reasons. One, because he knew the elfling well. Two, why would the elfling be targeted? Three, why was it that the second-born was the one to vanish?

Four years had passed and the Noldor Elves mourned the loss of Makalaurë and the other elfling. Then one day, Finwë received a missive from Nolofinwë claiming that the child had been found.

Nelyafinwë remembered the words 'under unusual circumstances' the most from his uncle's missive. He also remembered how the family had gathered together at Nolofinwë's home to see the elfling, and Nelyafinwë recalled the strange ways the child had acted. The child had looked so lost to him. So alone, even though the child was surrounded by family. When asked to explain what had happened to them, the child had merely stated that they couldn't remember anything. The elfling had convinced everyone that they were truly suffering from memory-loss, but Nelyafinwë was not convinced. He knew the elfling was hiding something. Whatever the secret was, it weighed heavily upon the child's shoulders, but the little one was adamant in remaining silent.

But, the elfling was no longer little. No, in the four years that had passed, the elfling had grown greatly and Nelyafinwë would have barely recognized them if it hadn't been for the strong resemblance the child shared with the Father. Even after six years, the elfling continued to grow.

For a long while, Nelyafinwë had firmly believed that the Elfling's reappearance meant that Makalaurë would be returned to them, but after six years, he was beginning to doubt it.

Stubbornly, he continued to believe that Macalaurë wasn't gone, but slowly, that belief was slipping away. Not only that, but Nelyafinwë also carried much guilt within his heart. He felt that it was his fault that Macalaurë was gone. It was one of the reasons why Nelyafinwë became even more protective of his younger siblings. He would not allow any of his other brothers to be taken.

Reclining back in his seat, Nelyafinwë thought over his brothers, especially the young twins. Ambarto and Pityo hardly older than twelve and barely reached Nelyafinwë's knees. The two had brought much joy to the family ever since Macalaurë's disappearance, but they, too, suffered from the loss of their elder brother. Sometimes, they would crawl into Nelyafinwë's bed late at night, crying whenever they had a dream that included Makalaurë. Nelyafinwë would struggle to comfort them, but nothing he said would help the twins. For several days, Ambarto and Pityo would seek Nelyafinwë out, and Nelyafinwë always welcomed them. He did his best to help his Mother in caring for the family since their Father was normally away for many days at a time.

Nelyafinwë stifled a sigh and glanced out the window to see that the sky had darkened considerably. Deciding he had waited long enough, Nelyafinwë stood, catching Nerdanel's attention.

"I am going to find the others before it storms." He offered as an explanation at her questioning glance. Nerdanel relaxed and nodded, glad that Nelyafinwë was going to go find her wayward sons.

"That is probably a good idea. Thank-you, my son." She quietly told him. Nelyafinwë sharply nodded then left the room, striding down the large corridor towards the Courtyard. Upon reaching the enormous doors that led outside, Nelyafinwë opened them and descended the stairs down onto the path. Heading straight for the stable, Nelyafinwë quickly freed his steed from her stall and effortlessly mounted himself. He didn't bother with a saddle, wanting to find his brothers immediately. His loyal steed, sensing her Master's urge to hurry, bolted from the stables and galloped through the tall gates of Finwë's home.

It wasn't long before Nelyafinwë's keen eyes found his brothers' trails. Studying them from where he sat atop his steed, Nelyafinwë followed the three separate trails, grateful that his brothers had chosen to hunt together. If they had gone their separate ways, he would never have found them before the storm struck. Then again, they'd been gone since early that morning... Who knew how far they'd traveled on this hunting trip?

After a long while, Nelyafinwë sensed that he was nearing his brothers' location and dismounted from atop his horse. Patting his horse's neck, Nelyafinwë softly thanked her and ventured further into the forest on foot. His steed obediently remained where she was, watching as he disappeared from her sight. Once he did, the horse dipped her head down and started chewing on the grass, waiting for him to return.

Nelyafinwë quietly moved through the shadows of the trees, carefully studying the ground for his brothers' tracks. There were so many, and they would often cross over with the other footprints that it became difficult to read after some time. However, he continued on, deciding just to follow the multiple footprints instead of reading them. Feeling that he was closing the distance between his brothers and himself, Nelyafinwë dared to call out their names,

"Tyelkormo! Curufinwë! Morifinwë!"

No voice answered his call. Concerned, Nelyafinwë emerged from the depths of the forest into the small clearing he knew the family's waterfall was located. He was about to holler their names once again when he happened to look up. Nelyafinwë immediately came to a stop, staring at the scene before him.

There stood Tyelkormo, Curufinwë, and Morifinwë, in the midst of the clearing, but it wasn't them that caught his attention. It was the blade that was threateningly raised against Tyelkormo, who confusedly stared at the Ellon wielding the sword. Morifinwë and Curufinwë stood a few feet behind Tyelkormo, neither looking towards Nelyafinwë. The two brothers were instead watching Tyelkormo and the other Ellon closely, wondering what they should do. Looking to see who had dared to threaten his younger brother, Nelyafinwë's eyes skimmed across the blade and up to the wielder's face.

Blue clashed with blue as Nelyafinwë met the wielder's gaze and the red-haired Ellon felt his breath flee from him as disbelief seized him.

It couldn't be...

The tall Elf immediately examined the Ellon, taking in the long, black hair that was freely dancing in the wind; the tall, lithe build of his body; and the wide blue eyes regarding him with shock. He would recognize those eyes anywhere.

"Makalaurë?" He barely breathed out, wanting with all his being to run forward and crush the Elf against him- to prove that it was truly his brother standing there. His heart sang with gladness, his entire being filling with overwhelming joy and relief. A decade... It'd been an entire decade and here he was! He hadn't changed at all.

Actually, that was a lie. There was something different with his brother. Something that struck Nelyafinwë as wrong. First off, his eyes...His eyes were swimming with grief, pain, disbelief, and...was that horror Nelyafinwë could see dancing in those blue orbs? Not only that, but his brother's Elven glow, which had once been incredibly bright- but not too blinding- had dimmed immensely. It was almost as if Makalaurë was losing the light of the Eldar, and that sent a pang of fear through Nelyafinwë. Third of all, why was Makalaurë staring at him as if he were afraid Nelyafinwë were going to eat him alive?

Here Nelyafinwë was, overwhelmed with hope and joy at seeing that his brother was alive, and yet...Makalaurë didn't appear to want to see him. In fact, he looked utterly terrified. Ignoring the fact that Makalaurë was raising his sword against Tyelkormo, Nelyafinwë made to move towards him, needing to prove that it was, in fact, Makalaurë standing there.

Just when Nelyafinwë was going to move, Makalaurë frantically shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and muttering, "No. No, no, no." He dropped the blade he'd been holding and Nelyafinwë watched as the sword fell onto the rocky ground, clattering a few times before remaining stock still.

Nelyafinwë frowned deeply, knowing something was terribly wrong. Was he hurt? Had he, perhaps, struck his head? "Makalaurë?" Nelyafinwë tried again, approaching the stunned Ellon. Makalaurë, upon seeing Nelyafinwë making his way towards him, panicked and stumbled back.

Warning bells rang in Nelyafinwë's mind as he quickened his pace, recognizing the signs that Makalaurë was about to flee like a frightened doe. One moment, Makalaurë had been standing there and the next, Makalaurë had spun on his heel and bolted away from the clearing, seeking to hide himself in the forest.

"Makalaurë!" Nelyafinwë cried after him, darting after the Elf. Curufinwë, Tyelkormo, and Morifinwë didn't hesitate to follow.

"I can't believe he raised his sword against me!" Morifinwë overheard Tyelkormo whisper in disbelief as the two ran after Nelyafinwë and Makalaurë. Snarling, Morifinwë snapped,

"That doesn't matter right now, Tyelkormo!"

Tyelkormo made a face at him and was about to retort when Curufinwë caught up with them.

"Shut up, you two!" Curufinwë growled. "Right now, we need to catch Makalaurë! We can't let him go!" Looking forward, Curufinwë determindely added, "I don't want to lose him. Not again..."

Morifinwë and Tyelkormo sobered, both feeling the same as Curufinwë. They'd lost Makalaurë before, and they were not going to lose him again! Not when they could get him back. Neither would admit it but they'd missed his presence more than anyone could ever understand. Sure, they would always pester Makalaurë when they were younger and torment him, but when he had vanished...

Everything had changed. Nothing was the same. Not without Makalaurë.

They remembered how Makalaurë was always kind with them no matter what they did . How he had always smiled, laughed, and encouraged them. He was always cheering them on and he was the one they would go to whenever they were unhappy or had any issues. He never once raised his voice against them.

The three had even missed his music! A decade ago, the three would have complained constantly about Makalaurë always composing music and singing all the day long, but living through a decade with an absent Makalaurë...

Morifinwë glanced ahead to see Nelyafinwë struggling to catch up to Makalaurë and watched, amazed, as Makalaurë nimbly ran through the forest with ease. The Elf ducked and dodged any obstacle standing in his way as if it were second nature to him, his feet barely scraping the ground as he ran.

 _Why is he running from us? We're his brothers... Surely he hasn't forgotten us._ The dark elf distantly wondered.

"We need to run faster or we'll never catch up to him!" Curufinwë panted, forcing himself to pick up his pace. Tyelkormo and Morifinwë silently agreed.

"Actually," Tyelkormo piped up, ducking under a low branch, "We need to split up! It's the only way we'll be able to catch him. We'll need to corner him."

"Notice where he's running to?" Morifinwë abruptly asked his brothers. Tyelkormo and Curufinwë looked up and after a brief moment, their faces lit up with realization.

"He's headed straight for the forge!" The two chimed.

"Aye. And I don't think Makalaurë realizes that's where he's going." Morifinwë nodded, huffing as he forced himself to continue running. Tyelkormo jerked his head up as a thought struck him.

"Atar! We need to get Atar!" He didn't clarify why they needed Fëanaro, but at the moment, it didn't matter. What mattered was catching Makalaurë before he could vanish again. "I'll run ahead to the Forge, you two split to the East and West!" And with a burst of speed, the golden elf raced away.

"Right!" Curufinwë nodded, immediately breaking away and racing off towards the East, leaving Morifinwë to go west. "Don't let him get away!"

"Don't worry," Morifinwë murmured to himself, narrowing his dark eyes. "He won't."

 _I won't let him._

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

Fëanaro had been working on perfecting one of the swords he'd been forging when the door to his forge was carelessly flung open, startling the Elf. Dropping the blade, Fëanaro bared his teeth in irritation and raised his head to yell at whoever had dared to break his concentration but stopped once he caught sight of Tyelkormo speeding towards him.

What was Tyelkormo doing this far from their home?

The question was soon lost, however, when Fëanaro caught the look of urgency gracing the young Elf's features. Feeling a pang of fear surge through him, Fëanaro was about to demand of his son what the matter was- if someone had been injured or worse- but he was cut off by Tyelkormo grabbing hold of his arm and tugging him towards the door to the forge.

"Atar! You must come quick!" The Elf hurriedly told him, forcing Fëanaro to leave his work and accompany him out. "Now!" His son impatiently added when Fëanaro was slow to follow.

"Tyelkormo! What is the matter?" Fëanaro demanded to know, allowing his son to drag him away, his fear growing. Someone had to have been hurt, otherwise, Tyelkormo wouldn't have been this frantic. Who was it? Nelyafinwë? Nay, his eldest was cautious and always looking out for his other sons. He knew for a certainty that it wasn't Tyelkormo. Morifinwë or Curufinwë, perhaps? Or... Fëanaro paled slightly... Were one of the twins hurt? If anyone had dared lay a hand on Ambarto or Pityo- scratch that. If anyone dared to lay a hand on _any_ of _his_ sons, they would not live to see the next sunrise. Fëanaro would ensure it.

"Just come, Atar!" Was all Tyelkormo said, racing towards the forest. Fëanaro didn't question his son, running beside the Ellon with ease. "Here!" Tyelkormo called out, skidding to a stop. Fëanaro stopped beside him, surveying the clearing they had reached. Seeing nothing amiss, he turned questioning eyes towards his son, but Tyelkormo was not facing him. He was watching the forest with sharp eyes, waiting for something.

Soon, the sound of shouting reached Fëanaro's ears. He recognized his sons' voices at once and by their tone, could tell that something was definitely up.

"Nelyo!"

"Don't let him escape!"

"Makalaurë!"

Upon hearing Nelyafinwë's shout, Fëanaro went rigid, hardly believing what he had heard.

"Makalaurë! Stop!"

Fëanaro immediately looked to Tyelkormo, needing his son to affirm that he was hearing correctly. Tyelkormo breathlessly nodded, catching the silent question in his father's eyes.

"That is why we needed you, Atar. We found Makalaurë-" The archer had just started to explain, but that was all Fëanaro had heard. The Elf felt as though he had been struck by a troll's hammer as his breath escaped him. Makalaurë...was here? He was truly here?

Fëanor didn't bother to quell the urge to run into the forest and see for himself that his second-born was there. To see that his son had been returned to him after so many years. A decade wasn't normally so long for an Elf, but the decade had been nothing but agonizing for Fëanor. Every day passed by slowly, as if taunting Fëanor and mocking him for his failure. His failure as a father. He'd lost a child, his precious second-born and was unable to find him.

Not one day passed that Fëanor wasn't constantly thinking of his missing son. Escaping to the forge did nothing to help him, or even ease the pain he felt from having lost his child.

"But something's wrong-" Tyelkormo had just turned to face his father only to find that his Father was no longer standing beside him. No, Fënaro was now streaking across the small clearing towards the forest, bent on discovering whether or not what Tyelkormo claimed was true.

Not a second had passed since Fëanaro had taken off did a black blur shoot out of the forest and across the clearing. A red blur immediately appeared behind it, one Fëanaro was able to identify as Nelyafinwë. Which meant that the black blur had to be Makalaurë! Fëanaro's blue eyes widened in shock, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing.

It was him!

It was Makalaurë who was unknowingly running in his direction. He would recognize his son anywhere! But... why did he look so terrified?

Fëanaro barely had time to ponder over his question, and was hardly given time to react when Makalaurë crashed into him; but he was quick to wrap his arms around his son and keep him close, refusing to allow him to escape.

Makalaurë, scared stiff, thrashed in his hold, struggling to get away. For a moment, Fëanaro was taken aback by his second-born's strength. Now, people must understand that Fëanaro prided himself in being one of the strongest of the Noldorin Elves, but he was literally fighting to keep a hold on the Elf!

"Makalaurë! Hush, Makalaurë!" Fëanaro whispered softly, yet urgently, in his frightened son's ear. "Be calm, little one." How he managed to keep his voice from wavering or to refrain from squeezing the life out of the Elf, Fëanaro knew not. As much as he wanted to celebrate the fact that his son was returned to him, Fëanaro knew he must concentrate on calming him.

Makalaurë became deathly still upon hearing his voice and Fëanaro warily loosened his hold so as to not frighten him even more. The dark elf breathed heavily and Fëanaro could sense the emotional turmoil Makalaurë was experiencing.

"It is alright, my son... You are safe. Atar has you." Fëanaro closed his eyes, resting his chin on the crown of Makalaurë's head, taking comfort in the fact that he had his son back. Mentally, Fëanaro was fervently thanking the Valar that Makalaurë was here. Nelyafinwë, Morifinwë, and Curufinwë had slowed to a stop upon seeing that their Father had caught Makalaurë and quietly watched, with baited breaths, as Fëanaro tried to calm him. "Atar finally has you."

Makalaurë thickly swallowed, trembling as he forced himself to raise his head and see if it was Fëanaro he was hearing.

Fëanaro pulled away slightly, giving his son some room to move. Makalaurë weakly raised his head and his mouth went dry when he found that it was indeed Fëanaro gazing down at him, worried blue eyes catching hold of his. "Makalaurë..." Fëanaro breathed, raising a hand and carding his fingers through Makalaurë's long black hair, brushing it away from his son's face so that he could get a better look at him. "It truly is you, Ionya."

Makalaurë said nothing, for he was too stunned to speak.

Fëanaro's brow furrowed as he realized that Makalaurë was frighteningly gazing up at him. What was wrong with his little songbird? Why was he so frightened?

"A...Atar?" Makalaurë barely whispered, his voice so low that Fëanaro would have missed it if he wasn't an Elf.

"Aye, it is me, little one." Fëanaro murmured. Makalaurë shakily released a breath as he pulled away from Fëanaro and took several steps back. Lifting up his head, Makalaurë slowly turned his head to look at his brothers, then to his father, and then back to his brothers. The minstrel closed his eyes afterwards and raised a hand up to cradle his head.

"Makalaurë?" Nelyafinwë quietly called out, taking a step towards his brother. "Toron?" He tried again when Makalaurë remained silent.

This was apparently the magic word to use, for Makalaurë immediately looked in his direction. "T...Toron?" He repeated, speaking as if the word were foreign to him.

"Aye, little one." Nelyafinwë shakily nodded, smiling weakly. "It is me. It is Nelyo."

"Toron..." Makalaurë said again, slowly extending an arm, his hand reaching towards Nelyo. Nelyafinwë remained stock still as Makalaurë hesitantly touched him, testing to see if he were real. Makalaurë swallowed thickly when he felt his hand rest against Nelyafinwë shoulder and inhaled deeply. It was real. He had confirmed it.

Taking a moment, Makalaurë forced himself to calm his frantically beating heart. He was safe, there was no need to panic. He had known this was going to happen sooner or later, he only wished he'd had more time to prepare. His eyes snapped upwards when he felt Nelyafinwë grasp his hand, allowing the minstrel to feel that he was trembling. It was then Makalaurë's eyes grew large as he took in the fact that this Nelyo had two hands!

Two!

A wave of vertigo overcame the minstrel and without warning, his knees buckled and he tumbled into Nelyo's chest, his eyes drifting shut as Makalaurë gave into his shock and did what any other Elf put into this situation would've done.

He fainted.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _Where am I?_

That was the first thing Maglor had tiredly wondered as he slowly came to. The minstrel kept drawing a blank as he tried to recall everything that had happened. His muddled mind vaguely remembered some things about whatever had transpired before he'd fallen unconscious.

He remembered running from something and...and there was a cave...and in that cave was a woman who'd kept rambling about giving him a chance of some sort.

Wait...

Maglor's brows beetled together as bits and pieces of his fragmented memories fused together, allowing the barely conscious minstrel to remember everything.

Had that all...did it really happen?

He had no time to wonder over his question when Maglor sensed a new and intimidating presence looming over him, a tall shadow blocking out the little light he could see behind his closed eyes.

Immediately, Maglor's survival instincts kicked in and the small Elf lashed out, his fist flying with lightning speed.

His aim struck true. Maglor opened his eyes in time to see his fist strike the intruder's jaw and watched, deeply satisfied and guarded, as the red-haired intruder grunted in pain and toppled over the edge of the bed.

Hold on a moment... _red hair?_

The minstrel winced in sympathy as said 'intruder' crashed into the unforgiving floor, the impact of his body hitting the ground echoing throughout the chamber. Peering over the edge of the bed, Maglor looked to find the Elf lying on his side, his red cape and hair splayed out on the fluffy brown rug covering the floor.

Well, at least his landing was somewhat soft...at least, softer than it would've been if he'd landed on only the wooden floor.

The Elf shifted and raised himself up with one arm, his other hand moving to rub his jaw as he raised stunned blue orbs to look at Maglor.

"M-Makalaurë?"

Maglor didn't dare to speak, not trusting his voice at the moment. Staring at the Elf on the ground, the minstrel felt pain, grief, love, and a pang of anger directed towards the Ellon. Thankfully, he was rescued from having to speak by the door to the room opening. Both he and Nelyo looked in time to see a golden head pop in, blue eyes blinking in confusion when the newcomer spotted his brother sprawled out on the ground. "Nelyo? Is there a reason you're on the ground?"

"Nelyo?" Maglor finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion.

Both Ellons snapped their heads up to face him.

"Makalaurë! You've awoken!" Tyelkormo gasped, flying towards the bed at the same time Nelyo had picked himself up off the ground and settled himself on the edge of the mattress.

Maglor said nothing, staring at the two for a long while. How he'd missed them! Seeing them again... There were no words that could express how Maglor felt!

"Makalaurë?"

"Nelyo." Maglor uttered softly in return, willing away the tears that threatened to spill. Nelyo had no time to react when the musician threw himself at the tall Elf, arms wrapping tightly around him as Maglor buried his face into Nelyo's shoulder.

Nelyo grunted quietly but immediately reciprocated the embrace, nearly crushing the minstrel against him.

It had been so long...So long since last he'd seen Makalaurë and heard his voice. Inhaling deeply, Nelyo caught the mixed aroma of the forest and the sear clinging to Makalaurë's being. Was that where he had been all these years? He would have to ask. Right now, however...

Nelyo tightened his grip on Makalaurë, vowing that he would never allow his brother out of his sight again. "I have missed you, Makalaurë...We all have. Where have you been these past ten years?"

Maglor froze. "T-Ten years?" He quietly repeated, voice muffled against Nelyo's shoulder.

"Aye. You disappeared ten years ago on this day. Without a trace. We couldn't find you, and we looked..." Nelyo's normally strong and confident voice wavered slightly. "We searched for you for days on end, never resting...but we could never find anything. Many were convinced you were dead...but I could never bring myself to believe that you were gone..."

"Ten years..." Maglor whispered again. To them, he'd been gone for a decade, but for him, it had been more than three thousand years!

"Hey, Nelyo, what about me?" Tyelkormo's voice sounded and before he could move, Maglor pulled away from Nelyo and faced the archer, tugging him into a fierce embrace.

"Tyelkormo!" Maglor breathed, remembering what he had done to his little brother not hours before. He'd raised his sword against him...had threatened him! "Forgive me, my brother! I did not mean to raise my blade against you! I was not in my right mind..."

"Guh! Makalaurë!" Tyelkormo grunted, squirming indignantly. "Do you honestly believe I care about that!?" The archer couldn't believe it! Makalaurë was finally back and the minstrel was begging his forgiveness over such a trivial matter? He continued before Maglor could speak, "I'm just thrilled that you're back." _More than thrilled._ The archer thought to himself as he struggled to breathe in the vice-like grip Maglor had him in. For a brief moment, Tyelkormo was confused. Why was he shaking? He surely wasn't crying!

And then he realized that it wasn't his body shaking, but Makalaurë, and immediately knew that Makalaurë was about to cry.

This caused Tyelkormo to go into panic mode. Makalaurë couldn't cry! No! That was out of the question! He hated it when someone cried! _Especially_ when that someone was his brother. If Makalaurë started crying, he might cry, and he most certainly did not want that to happen.

"Erm...M-Makalaurë?"

Tch, his voice most certainly _did not_ shake. He threw a glare at a smirking Nelyo from where he was trapped against Macalaurë. That Ellon had absolutely no right to smirk at him! He wasn't the one with tears in his eyes!

If his eyes were welling up, it was only because Makalaurë was doing an excellent job at suffocating him!

The poor archer finally managed to wheeze out, "As _thrilled_ as I am to see you again, Macalaurë, I would very much love to breathe!" Instantly, Tyelkormo felt Maglor's grip on his loosen, but the Minstrel refused to let him go. Not that he minded much...

The three Ellons remained in that position for a long while, and it was only when a bright flash of light illuminated the room that Nelyo stirred. Standing, Nelyo tugged Makalaurë and Tyelkormo into a standing position. "Come, Makalaurë," He weakly smiled down at the smaller Elf, still unable to believe that his brother was back. For a while, Nelyo had believed that it had all been a dream, and that when he should wake, Makalaurë would be gone and he would find that his brother was still missing. Thankfully, that had never happened. "Our brothers and Atar have been waiting for you to wake for several hours... Ammë has yet to learn of your return."

At Nelyo's words, Macalaurë tensed. Tyelkormo, upon feeling Maglor stiffening beside him, glanced up at his brother in concern.

"Ammë..." Macalaurë murmured, his eyes far away.

"Yes, Makalaurë. You're home now..." Nelyo swallowed thickly after he had spoken. Home...Home hadn't been the same since Makalaurë had disappeared.

"Home." Those two words, Nelyo noticed, 'Ammë' and 'home' were spoken by his brother as if they were foreign to him. Those eyes, he'd also noticed, appeared far older and aged with so much grief and pain that it tore Nelyo's heart out to see. What had happened to their little Songbird, as the family was fond of calling him. "Where...Where is everyone?" Makalaurë asked to know, allowing Nelyo to lead him out of the bedroom and down the Family Hall. Nelyo patiently waited when Makalaurë would pause every now and then and study the family portraits hanging on the wall. He and Tyelkormo shared a look when Makalaurë brushed his fingers against the wall and over the tabletops, his eyes raking over the entire corridor as if he were taking every single detail in and ingraining it into his memory.

"He acts as though he's never been here before." Tyelkormo lowly remarked, leaning closer to Nelyo so that Makalaurë wouldn't hear him. Nelyo had to agree. Ten years was a long time to spend from home, but could Makalaurë truly have forgotten so much during those years?

"Indeed. But it has been ten years since last he was here, and Valar knows what happened to him during that time." Nelyo whispered in return, narrowing his eyes on the glove Makalaurë wore over his left hand. Why was one hand uncovered but the other was hidden from sight? Nelyo felt a sickening sensation that told him he didn't want to learn the reason why. While pondering over his brother, Nelyo had forgotten to look where he was going and missed catching Makalaurë abruptly jerking to a stop at the end of the Corridor. Luckily, Tyelkormo had been paying attention and immediately reached out to yank Nelyo back just before he could crash into the oblivious Elf.

Nelyo quickly caught his balance, flashing Tyelkormo a thankful look then returning his attention to Makalaurë, noting the lost look Makalaurë wore on his youthful features. Makalaurë looked down both corridors that branched off of the Family Hall with his brow furrowed, desperately trying to remember which direction the Family Room was, but nothing came to mind. This was terrible! He couldn't remember where anything was located in his childhood home!

"Makalaurë?" Nelyo appeared at his side and Makalaurë tilted his head up to look at him.

"Which...where...where do I go?" He timidly asked, pointedly ignoring the worried look Nelyo was wearing.

"To the right. The door furthest down the corridor, to your left." Nelyo gently reminded him and Makalaurë swept off to the right, gracefully gliding down the corridor. His pace quickened the closer he drew to the Family Room, faintly recalling traveling through the very same corridor thousands of years ago. Once he reached the room, Maglor reached out with a shaking hand, grabbed the handle, tugged it down, and cast open the door.

Standing in the doorway, the only thing Makalaurë was capable of doing was staring. His dark blue orbs scanned each and every Elf seated in the room separately, critically analyzing them.

Morifinwë was lazing about on a chaise beneath the large window to his right, distantly staring out the window and watching the storm raging outside with an intense gaze. The dark, brooding, Elf had his lips tightly pursed together but other than that, he looked...more relaxed to Maglor than he'd ever been. Then again, stormy days always served to calm and comfort the Elf. But, they were also days in which Caranthir- or Morifinwë- was more dangerous. Maglor took in the familiar dark brown eyes and the raven-black hair that framed the Ellon's face, as well as the black, loose, robes his brother had decided to wear for the night.

Actually... Maglor frowned. Wasn't that _his_ robe? He may not remember a lot, but he knew for a certainty that that was his favorite robe.

Beside Morifinwë was Curufinwë. Curufinwë also had black hair, but his eyes were a deeper blue color than Maglor's. Instead of black, Curufinwë had dawned himself with a dark purple robe and was seated on the windowsill, watching the storm with a conflicted gaze.

Across from them, the tiny forms of Amrod and Amras- Ambarto and Pityo- were barely visible to Maglor. The two twins had huddled together in the middle of the couch, burrowed deep into a warm blanket. Only their red hair was visible from beneath the blanket and Maglor felt a fond and pained smile grow on his lips. The two, he painfully remembered, had always been close. They were their brother's keeper, always watching over the other...

Maglor remembered how he had found them after they had sacked the Havens of Sirion. They looked exactly as they were now, cuddled together, silently comforting the others with their presence. His already shattered heart had broken even more upon finding that the two had been slain in battle. What had made it worse, was the fact that the twins, Maglor later discovered, had dragged themselves across the battlefield, trying to reach the other, in order to spend their last few moments together. It had to have been so painful...and yet they forced themselves to do it. They had purposefully ignored their pain in order to reach the other. The two had died with their hands tightly clasped together and foreheads touching.

It still brought Maglor to tears as he remembered that heart-breaking moment.

Furiously blinking away the tears, Maglor moved his gaze from the tiny twins to the Ellon seated beside them. He nearly froze upon finding that it was Fëanaro who sat beside the twins, his body turned away from the door, the fire illuminating half of his face as the Ellon stared into the dancing flames. He was an intimidating figure, tall and powerful. Maglor could see the power and authority radiating from his being and instinctively took a small step back. There were so many conflicting emotions the minstrel felt as he stared at the Ellon he once called 'Atar.' He felt a flash of sharp, coiling anger burning within his chest and his eyes hardened as images of the Silmarils came into mind. Here sat the Ellon responsible for everything. Because of him, thousands of innocents lost their lives as nations crumbled. The Silmarils had destroyed everything Maglor had known and loved. They had also ripped away his brothers from him. His entire family, save but a few, had died because of the accursed jewels.

And yet...As much as Maglor wanted to hate Fëanaro for his abhorrent creations, he still loved his Father. That didn't mean he would forgive him, though. Maglor knew he would never be able to forgive Fëanaro for all that he'd done. It was impossible to. Maglor couldn't even bring himself to _think_ about forgiving him.

"Ah, Nelyo," Fëanaro's voice brought Maglor back to the present and the minstrel raised his head to see Fëanaro shifting so that he could face the door. "You have returned. How is-" The Ellon sharply cut himself off when he turned his head and his piercing blue eyes incidentally locked gazes with Maglor. Fëanaro slowly raised himself to his feet, staring at Makalaurë. "Makalaurë!" He breathed, catching everyone's attention. Immediately, Morifinwë and Curufinwë leaped to their feet, spinning round so they could see the doorway.

"Toron!" Curufinwë zipped towards Makalaurë, pouncing on the the poor Elf. "You inconsiderate, conniving, son of an Orc!" He growled through tightly clenched teeth, Makalaurë receiving a face full of black hair as Curufinwë proceeded to squeeze the life out of him. "Leaving us the way you did, when you did! Don't you dare do that again or I will murder you!"

"Curufinwë..." Maglor wrapped his arms around the trembling Elf, hugging the Ellon tightly.

"I hate you." Curufinwë muttered against the fabric of his tunic.

"No, you don't." Maglor automatically responded, remembering the times Curufinwë would insistently claim that he hated Maglor, but both of them knew better. Both knew Curufinwë was fiercely protective of his brothers and was willing to do anything for them.

Well...That wasn't true. When they were younger, Curufinwë refused to give Maglor the hugs he would ask for, and so, Maglor had to settle for tackling the Elf when he wasn't paying attention in order to get a 'hug.' It was something the two often engaged in during their childhood days, and then they would have this very same argument afterwards.

"Yes, I do. I honestly hate you."

"No, you don't. You know you don't." Maglor told him, chuckling a little. He wasn't at all surprised that this was the manner in which Curufinwë had chosen to greet him. It was Curufinwë after all.

"How would you know what I know?" Curufinwë demanded to know, pulling back to glare at Maglor. "But I mean it! Disappear like that again...and...and..." Curufinwë struggled to finish his sentence. "And...just don't ever do that again!" He ordered.

"Don't worry, toron..." Maglor marveled at how easily everything seemed to come to him. The word 'Toron,' a word he hadn't spoke in thousands of years, slipped from his tongue as if it were second-nature to him. "I don't plan to..." _I plan to stay...and change everything._

"Out of the way, Curufinwë." Morifinwë commanded, and Curufinwë moved just as the dark Elf threw a punch at Maglor, striking him in the shoulder.

Maglor winced and stumbled back against Nelyo. Morifinwë had held back, Maglor knew, and even though the punch hadn't been that strong, it had startled him. Then again, what else had he expected?

"Just who do you think you are?" Morifinwë growled, glowering fiercely. The light of the Eldar enveloping Morifinwë dimmed in a threatening manner as the dark Elf pinned Maglor with a furious look. "You vanish without a trace and then come waltzing back as if you hadn't been gone for an entire decade! Where in Morgoth's name were you!?"

Maglor calmly regarded his brother. Well, he may have looked calm, but inside...Maglor was a raging tempest barely keeping his emotions under control. If only they knew that for him, it hadn't been a decade. He hadn't been 'gone' for a decade. He hadn't seen all of them in thousands of years. How he wished it'd only been a decade! Ten years was better than three thousand!

' _Oh no, little brother...I have been gone for much longer than that.'_ Maglor thought to himself.

"Morifinwë." Maglor heard Nelyo sharply rebuke, and raised his hand to keep his brother from continuing.

"Leave it be, Mae- Nelyo." Maglor hastily corrected, giving Nelyo a small smile. "Tis alright."

Nelyo didn't look as though he agreed, but he let it be since Maglor had asked him to. Morifinwë was still staring long and hard at Maglor, who returned the stare. Then, Morifinwë lowered his head and turned away.

"Don't you dare ask for a hug, Makalaurë." The dark Elf told him, crossing his arms, refusing to look at Maglor again. "Because I refuse to give you one." The corner of Maglor's lip twitched upwards, but it wasn't long until the smile faded when Maglor remembered who was left to greet him. Preparing himself, Maglor made to greet Fëanaro when he was all of a sudden yanked forward into a bone-crushing embrace by said Elf.

"Iónya."

"Atar." Maglor managed to say, just barely restraining himself from shuddering away. Thankfully, Fëanaro ended the embrace in order to look at his son.

"Where have you been all these years, Iónya?" Fëanaro quietly asked him. Maglor was taken aback by the amount of emotion he could see dancing in his Father's eyes. If there was one thing Maglor remembered about his Father, it was the indifferent look the Elf always wore and the uncaring manner in which he carried himself. Had he always been that way? Maglor wasn't sure... He was certain he remembered a different Fëanaro raising his seven sons the time before the Silmarils were created. A time when Fëanaro would actually prove to his sons that he loved them.

"I..." Maglor started to answer then trailed off. "I have been far, far away."

"What kind of answer is that?" Curufinwë scoffed, jutting his chin out at Maglor. "You can't expect us to accept such a vague answer, do you?"

"It is the only answer you will receive." Maglor said to him, raising a hand in order to keep Curufinwë from speaking. "Ask me no more, for I cannot tell you." He shut his eyes against the memories of the kin-slayings and the horrors he'd faced, willing them away from his mind.

"Why not?" Morifinwë asked, tilting his head in question.

"It is too painful for me to remember." Was all Maglor offered as an explanation, subconsciously reaching for his burned hand. Only Nelyo caught the movement, and the Ellon regarded his brother closely, wondering what Maglor was hiding with that glove.

A high-pitch whine, or a yawn, Maglor could never tell, sounded from the couch, taking everyone's attention from Maglor to the tiny twins. The two twins, who were awoken by all the commotion, were stretching their arms high up into the air, mouths open wide as they yawned and rubbed their forest green eyes.

"Nelyo!" The twins immediately called when they blinked themselves into awareness, dropping their hands back into their laps as they searched for their elder brother.

"Here, little ones." Nelyo answered, and the twins slipped off the couch to rush to him, giggling happily as they clutched at his legs.

"Nelyo!" They chimed, eyes shining with joy.

"Ambarto, Pityo," Nelyo knelt down, resting his hands on their small shoulders. Maglor felt a smirk grace his features when he noticed how Nelyo still towered over the small elflings. He was so tall... Even when Nelyo was an adolescent, he had been tall. Nearly two times taller than Maglor. "There is someone here to see you."

"Who?" The twins excitedly asked him, their small hands grabbing at his tunic as they stared up at him with their little faces.

They looked so innocent...so young. And they were the size of a four years old human child.

"Look for yourself." Nelyo told them, tipping his head in Maglor's direction. The twins did as they were told, eyes trailing up Maglor's form until they landed on his face. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and then...

" _Laurë_!" And Maglor found himself being tackled by overenthusiastic Elflings. "Home! Laurë home!" Tears of joy welled in their eyes as they began to wail, a testament of how much they had missed their beloved brother. Maglor dropped to his knees and gathering the Elflings in his arms, holding them close and allowing his eyes to drift shut as a couple of tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Aye, little ones...L-Laurë is home." He stuttered over his childhood name, still finding it difficult to call himself Makalaurë. "And I have missed you so."

"We miss you more!" Ambarto hiccuped, rubbing at his eyes as tears rolled down his chubby cheeks. Pityo pitifully nodded in agreement, fingers digging into Maglor's tunic. The family watched on as the twins continued to tell Maglor how much they had missed him with growing smiles. Even Morifinwë allowed a small grin to grace his lips. Maglor never once relinquished his hold on the small elflings, instead, picking them up and cradling them against his chest. The twins happily allowed their heads to rest on his shoulders, refusing to let him out of their sight.

But...There was someone missing.

Maglor glanced up to look at Nelyo. "Where is Ammë?"

Fëanaro was the one to answer his question. "She left but a few hours ago to visit her cousin. Her cousin is going to have her first child, and the Healers believe the delivery will be a difficult one."

"I see." Maglor visibly wilted at this. Oh, how he wished to see his Ammë, and now, he would have to wait another few days, perhaps weeks, for her to return home.

"Ammë will have the best welcome-home gift once she returns." Nelyo declared, clasping Maglor's shoulder. "It will be one she will always remember."

"Indeed. This is a day I shall never forget." Fëanaro agreed, watching Maglor closely. He had hoped Makalaurë would have told them of where he'd been for the last decade, but it was clear to him that Makalaurë absolutely did not want to answer that question. What had happened to his son during the last ten years? What had he experienced that was so horrible that he would refuse to speak of it?

He supposed he would have to be patient and see. Sooner or later, he would get the answers to the questions he was sure everyone wanted to ask him. For now, the family would celebrate the fact that Makalaurë was alive and safe.

However... Fëanaro pursed his lips together as he watched Makalaurë interact with his six other sons. Now, he no longer had to claim that he only had six sons. He had all seven, and it was something Fëanaro cherished. They could be together as a family now. But, there was something extremely different about his son...Something told Fëanaro that Makalaurë was hiding something from them. Not only that, but Fëanaro had the strangest feeling that this Makalaurë wasn't the Makalaurë the family knew and loved. It was an odd, and terrible thought but Fëanaro swore to himself that he would love his son no matter what.

And yet, it still troubled him greatly and he had the daunting feeling that something was going to happen.

Something big, and Makalaurë was connected to it.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _ **There you have it, my fellow readers! Second chapter done, third one on the way! Sheesh, so many family reunions. I feel it was a bit overdramatic, but hey... Now that I've got the reunions out of the way, I can focus on the main storyline! Yipee!**_

 _ **Remember, constructive criticism most welcome! If there are any issues, don't hesitate to let me know!**_

 _ **~Juliette Morbu**_


	3. Out Hunting

_**As promised, here's chapter three! I do hope you enjoy. I apologize, beforehand, for any grammar mistakes. I'm bilingual and sometimes, I'll get the grammar mixed up. I hope you still understand what I was trying to say :) Anywho, onwards with the story! Basically, this entire chapter's about Maglor spending quality time with his siblings. The next chapter's kind of when this story will actually start.**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

A crack of lightning followed by a boisterous clap of thunder startled Maglor awake late in the night and the minstrel shot up in his bed. Eyes darting around the room, Maglor relaxed when he remembered that he was in his bedroom, in his home, in Valinor. It had been an entire two weeks since his return and Maglor found that he was settling in quite nicely. His brothers rarely left him alone, constantly asking him to do this, that, and the other with them and he'd happily obliged. Surprisingly enough, Curufinwë took time off from working in the forge to join Maglor and the others in doing simple things; such as exploring the fields surrounding their home, riding on trails through the forests, or just chatting in the family room.

Amusingly enough, the twins had roped the entire family in creating a celebratory dinner in order to commemorate the fact that they had Maglor back. It had been very entertaining. The brothers had worked hard, trying to follow the recipe's to everyone's favorite meals and desserts only to end up wrecking the entire kitchen. They learned, rather quickly, that neither of them were made to cook. Except for Maglor and Morifinwë. Tyelkormo and Nelyo excelled in making the desserts, and the twins were skilled in wreaking havoc about the large room. Curufinwë merely hovered over their shoulders and watched his brothers struggle. There had been much laughter shared among the brothers. There had been a few moments of panic too. Especially when Tyelkormo managed to set the stove on fire and scorched the simple batch of cookies he and Nelyo had worked extremely hard over. Ambarto, Maglor was reminded, was a very clumsy elfling. The poor thing had managed to fall off of the table and into a huge sack filled with flour, causing it to explode and cover the entire place, and the brothers, in a layer of flour.

When Pityo accidentally mistook everyone for ghosts, the brothers had had to chase the little elfling all throughout the entire house in an attempt to catch him and calm the frantic elfling, startling many of the maids and servants who worked in their home.

Maglor smiled widely when he remembered how Pityo had skidded into a dead end, took one glance at the mirror on the wall nearby, and spotted his own reflection in the glass. It had been highly entertaining and a most memorable moment.

* * *

 ** _Earlier that day..._**

 _Pityo frantically streaked down the main corridor of the large home, skidding around the maids and servants bustling about the area. Several of the Elves danced out of his way and watched, with bemused expressions, as the powdery Elfling bolted out of sight, shrieking incoherently. Shaking their heads, the Elves refocused on their tasks when five other Elves covered in white powder flew down the corridor after the runaway elfling, Maglor and Nelyo in the lead. Leaping to the side in order to avoid being hit, the maids and servants watched as the grown elves rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Ambarto pattered after them, slowly strolling down the hallway, clearly not in any rush to catch up with his brothers. Blinking, wondering what on earth the seven sons of_ _Fëanaro were up to, the Elves returned to completing their work, deciding it was best just to leave it be. They didn't mind the chaos. Not at all. Everyone had been overjoyed by the fact that Makalaurë had been found. His return had sparked a renewal of life within the House of Fëanaro. There was laughter around every corner, trouble stirring in the most unexpected of places, and now, a celebration in the making! They didn't mind that their workload had grown since it meant that there would be a marvelous, and most memorable, feast they would put together for Makalaurë's return. It was always enjoyable when the Elves would gather together for a Feast. This Feast would be even better seeing as it would be the first they'd had in a decade. Word had already begun to spread._

 _Meanwhile, Maglor, Nelyo, and the others tried to track down little Pityo. It wasn't at all hard since all they had to do was follow the floury footprints marking the newly polished floor and listen to Pityo's frightened squeals as the Elfling sailed down another hallway in the hopes of escaping from them._

 _"Pityo!" Nelyo called, hoping the Elfling would hear and recognize his voice and stop running. Sadly, Pityo didn't. Instead, the Elfling picked up speed and whipped around another corner, only to find that there was a dead end._

 _"What in Eru's name is the matter with the Elfling?" Morifinwë exclaimed in exasperation. This chase had been going on for far too long. "Surely he would recognize his brothers!"_

 _"Clearly not, or we wouldn't be running all over the place trying to catch him!" Curufinwë huffed, running side-by-side with Tyelkormo._

 _"I didn't ask you!" Morifinw_ _ë snapped at his brother._

 _"Would the two of you **shut up**?" __Tyelkormo growled in annoyance, skidding around the corner after Makalaur_ _ë and Nelyo. Makalaur_ _ë and Nelyo slid to a stop when they saw that Pityo had reached the end of the corridor, the elfling staring in horror at the dead end before him. Panicked, Pityo mewled pitifully, desperately searching for an escape from the six ghosts coming after him._

 _"Pityo," Nelyo sighed in fond exasperation, shaking his head, puffs of white dust dancing in the air from the movement. Pityo whipped around, his eyes widening in horror upon seeing that these ghosts, who suspiciously resembled his brothers, had caught up to him. "Pityo, it is us, your brothers." Nelyo tried to explain to him, gesturing to Maglor and the others. Pityo didn't listen to him. He knew he couldn't trust ghosts._

 _"He must have a wild imagination..." Morifinw_ _ë commented under his breath. Maglor_ _glanced back at him, raising an elegant eyebrow._

 _"He is but an elfling, Ca-Morifinw_ _ë." Maglor bit back a curse when he nearly slipped and called his brother Caranthir. He couldn't help it! Ever since going to Middle-Earth, he had called his brothers by their Sindarized names for so long... He would need to be careful when he spoke to them. "And," he added, pointedly looking at Morifinw_ _ë, "I believe I recall a certain someone with a rather active and...creative imagination when he was but an elfling."_

 _Maglor could've sworn he'd caught Morifinw_ _ë flushing in embarrassment, but there was too much flour that it was difficult to tell. "I don't know who you're talking about, Makalaur_ _ë." The dark elf muttered, averting his gaze. Maglor smirked,_

 _"Indeed? I will give you a clue. Let me see..." Maglor tapped his chin dramatically as he tried to think of what he could remember of Morifinw_ _ë's childhood. His brow furrowed when all he could come up with appeared in his mind like blurred images. Maglor's eyes widened when he realized he could hardly remember anything! It had happened too long ago the memories were fading away from his mind! "Erm..." He bit his lip worriedly. As if his thoughts were coming to his rescue, the word 'tree' appeared in his mind and Maglor smiled victoriously, barely holding back a bark of laughter. "Ah! I do remember an incident involving the tree in the courtyard and an elfling who believed-"_

 _"Come now, Makalaur_ _ë," Morifinw_ _ë hastily cut Maglor off, "We have an elfling to catch."_

 _'You're most welcome, Maglor!' Maglor nearly tripped over his feet at the haughty and sarcastic voice that echoed in his mind._

 _'Din?'_

 _'The one and only.' Came the dramatic sigh. 'Surely you haven't forgotten about me already?" She continued on before he could say anything. "Anyway, I'm trying to restore your memories as best I can, but I don't know how much I can do...I don't want to overwhelm you with doing too much at a time." A snort of laughter cut Din off. 'Some of these memories...' She said in between giggles. 'I absolutely ADORE the twins!'_

 _Maglor worried his lower lip. This was...odd. So...Din apparently could sift through his mind and search his memories? That did not make him uncomfortable at all._

 _'Oh, calm your horses, Maglor. I am **restoring** your memories, not searching through any of them.' Din corrected him. 'Well...I may have seen a couple...but those twins...' She admitted. Maglor refrained from rolling his eyes. This woman was the strangest he'd ever come across. _

_'Why thank-you!'_

 _'That was not exactly a compliment.'_

 _'I'll take it as one anyway!'_

 _And Maglor was just going to let her continue with whatever she was doing..._

 _His attention was immediately ensnared by Pityo's terror-filled shriek and he looked to see that the elfling had caught sight of the mirror hanging on the wall nearby. Pityo, Maglor gather, had curiously glanced at it, having spotted it in the corner of his eye, and saw a white figure staring back at him. A white figure that resembled him greatly._

 _"AH!" Pityo exclaimed, horrified, wildly flinging his arms about the air, watching in terror as the figure in the mirror did exactly the same thing._

 _Oh no... The little Elfling thought to himself, his heart sinking. That could only mean **one** thing. _

_"Dead!" He shrieked in disbelief, then slapped a hand over his heart, dramatically gasping as the elfling staggered back and dropped to the ground. Nelyo and his brothers winced as they watched Pityo slump onto the ground, and waited for him to get back up, but he never did. The elfling remained motionless on the ground, his arms splayed out to the sides and face turned away, much to his brothers' amusement._

 _"Pityo," Nelyo chuckled, approaching the elfling. It only took him three long strides to reach Pityo's side and as soon as he had, Nelyo leaned over the prone figure, his long red hair slipping over his shoulder and creating a curtain against the sunlight streaming through the window nearby. "What are you doing, little one?"_

 _Pityo opened his eyes and stared up at Nelyo with a grieved expression. "Dying." He answered. Maglor laughed, materializing beside Nelyo._

 _"But, Pityo, you aren't dead."_

 _Pityo frowned deeply. He wasn't dead? But then...why was he so...white? Weren't ghosts white? That's what the stories claimed...He watched as Morifinw_ _ë, Curufinw_ _ë, Tyelkormo, and his twin surrounded him, each leaning forward to stare down at him. There was amusement dancing in all six pairs of eyes watching him as he lay there. "No?" He asked Maglor_ _._

 _"No, Pityo. You aren't dead, see?" Tyelkormo bent down and gently rubbed Pityo's tiny face with a ripped piece of fabric, wiping it clean of the flour. Pityo slowly sat up to check his reflection in the mirror. He was pleasantly surprised to find the white stuff was gone from his face and that he looked alive again._

 _"Not dead!" Pityo happily exclaimed, leaping up and clapping Nelyo's face with his small hands. Nelyo laughed and raised the elfling high up into the air, smiling broadly at the cheerful shrieks that earned him. Maglor chuckled and lifted Ambarto up into his arms when the elfling demanded to be picked up. After clearing Ambarto's face of the flour clinging to it, the twins decided to return the favor and did their best to wipe away the flour staining Maglor and Nelyo's faces. Morifinw_ _ë, Curufinw_ _ë, and Tyelkormo followed their example, doing their best to rid their faces of flour._

 _"Well, now that we have that settled," Nelyo said, his laughter dying down a bit as he settled Pityo on his hip,"Why don't we go and eat some cookies?"_

 _"Yeah!" Came the enthusiastic response from the twins._

 _When Fëanaro had returned home from having gone to the marketplace, he arrived to find floury footprints marking the floors of his entire home, and, after tracing the newly-made set of footprints, entered the Dining Hall to find seven Elves covered from head-to-toe with flour munching on cookies at the the table, chatting animatedly among each other._

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

Maglor sighed and shook his head at the memory, plopping back down against his many pillows, a broad smile playing on his lips. Oh, it was great to be home. Well, mostly great.

His uneasiness around Fëanaro hadn't gone unnoticed by his family, and many of his brothers had inquired upon the matter. Luckily, Maglor was able to evade their inquiries, usually finding something else to distract them with or change the subject of the conversation. He knew his brothers could tell he was purposefully avoiding the subject, but they respectfully never brought the subject back up again.

He found, much to his surprise, that Fëanaro actually appeared hurt and thoroughly confused by Maglor shunning away from him. It made Maglor feel guilty about causing his Father pain. He had overheard Nelyo trying to comfort his Father one night, but Fëanaro refused to listen to his eldest's reassurances.

 _"There was not one day that passed that I did not plead with the Valar to return my son to me,"_ He remembered Fëanaro tell his brother just last night, " _To let him find his way back home, back to me."_ Fëanaro had sighed dismally then, his expression morphing into one of grief." _Ten years...For ten agonizingly long years I mourned over the loss of my little songbird..."_

 _"Atar,"_ Nelyo had gently tried to interject, but Fëanaro had slammed a fist down against his desktop, causing the Elf to startle. Maglor had jumped too, not having expected it.

" _And then, suddenly, my prayers are answered and I finally get him back...only to find that he wants nothing to do with me!"_ Maglor could've sworn he'd heard the proud Fëanaro's voice waver slightly. " _ **Nothing** , Nelyo! Anytime I am nearby, or I am in the same room he is in, and he notices me, he is immediately on guard. He hides himself from me- shies away when I come closer. I can tell he is uncomfortable in my presence, you can see it in his eyes, but...for the life of me, I cannot think of a reason why. Have I done something to him?" _Fëanaro had turned pleading eyes to Nelyo, hoping his son may know the reason behind Maglor's nervousness around Fëanaro.

 _"Nay, Atar."_ Nelyo negated, firmly shaking his head. " _I am afraid none of us know why Makalaurë is uncomfortable around you..."_

 _"I do not understand..."_ There was an undercurrent of pain in the manner in which Fëanaro had spoken that sent a pang of guilt flashing through Maglor. He shouldn't be listening in on this conversation, but... " _All I want is to have my little songbird..."_

That was all Maglor could bear to listen to. He had swept away at once, quelling the urge to enter Fëanaro's study and ease his Father's pain. He was afraid his bitterness towards his Atar would cause him to snap and he may say things he would later regret. It had been difficult for Maglor to tolerate his Father's presence, but he had worked diligently on at least pretending to be at ease in his Father's presence. It apparently didn't work since Maglor would feel Nelyo's eyes burning into his back every time he would speak with Fëanaro. It also didn't help to see the pain Fëanaro was trying to hide behind his eyes as they conversed. He could tell Fëanaro was convinced that Maglor was rejecting him, and that wasn't what Maglor was doing at all!

Sighing heavily, Maglor rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Tomorrow, he and Nelyo would indulge in some hunting with Curufinwë, Morifinwë, and Tyelkormo, since Maglor had, and he quoted, 'completely ruined their last hunt.' They all knew the three brothers didn't mean those words at all. For almost the whole day, Maglor had spent his time with Ambarto and Pityo. This, of course, thrilled the twins. They had introduced Maglor to their ponies, telling him that Fëanaro had bought two of them for their begetting day, then showed Maglor their newly redecorated room. They had spent an hour on storytime, several hours outside playing whatever games the twins wanted to play, and then, they'd returned to the house and ate. After dinner, Maglor fulfilled his promise to the twins by tucking them in for the night and reading them a bedtime story. He'd never noticed his other siblings or Fëanaro listening in from the doorway as the twins laughed and squealed with delight when Maglor read the story they had wanted to hear.

Speaking of the twins...

Maglor frowned when he heard the sound of his door opening and the soft patter of feet scrambling to his bedside after a particularly loud crash of thunder. Turning his head, he watched as two red-heads popped over the edge of his mattress, wide green eyes staring at him in fear.

"Laurë?" Ambarto and Pityo chimed, voices wobbling. Maglor gave them an understanding smile and sat up, delicately lifting the two up onto his bed. The twins immediately sought protection in Maglor's arms, clinging to him and jerking when another crack of thunder filled the air.

"Sh, little ones. The storm cannot hurt you here." The minstrel soothed, running a comforting hand through their hair, marveling at how soft and silky each strand slipped through his fingers.

"Bad storm..." Pityo whimpered, snuggling closer to Maglor, his fingers digging into the fabric of his night shirt.

"Aye," Maglor agreed, glancing out the window just as another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, "Tis a rather fierce storm."

"We stay?" Ambarto timidly asked, nudging his head up to give Maglor his best puppy eyes. Maglor smirked in amusement, ruffling their tiny heads.

"If I say no?"

"We stay!" Ambarto and Pityo declared, latching onto him. Maglor scoffed at their antics.

"What? So I don't have a say in this?"

The twins thought over it for a second then firmly shook their heads. "No. We stay. Laurë keep storm away." They settled back down against Maglor, resting their heads on his shoulders as the minstrel wrapped his arms around them, remembering all of the times he'd done the same thing an infinite amount of times when the two were elflings.

How they had grown...

Maglor's lips curled downwards as he thought of the harsh life the twins grew up in. The two had been carefree as young elflings, then Fëanaro was exiled and the family left their home. After their twelve years of exile had come to an end, Fëanaro had created the Silmarils and that was when everything came crashing down. Ambarto and Pityo were so young then and unaccustomed to being shunned and rejected by the Noldor. It had disheartened them greatly when they were faced with such hatred and open dislike directed towards them because they were two of the sons of Fëanaro.

And then, they were forced to pick up their swords, learn how to wield them, and fight against their own kin.

Maglor remembered distinctly how distraught the twins had become after Fëanaro had ordered for the stolen ships of the Teleri were to be burned down and the first Kinslaying. Neither Pityo or Ambarto could be consoled. They were responsible of killing their kin, the blood of the Elves staining their hands, and there was nothing that could change that.

Well, back then, there was nothing that could change it, but now, Maglor was here to keep it from happening. He was sent back in time to prevent that future from coming into play again.

"Don't worry, little ones." Maglor whispered softly, holding the now-sleeping twins closer to him. "I will never allow you to experience such horror..." Determinedly, Maglor narrowed his eyes as he watched the storm outside. "It won't happen again...I will ensure it."

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

"Makalaurë!" A shout roused Maglor from his deep slumber and the Minstrel startled awake. Blearily blinking his eyes, Maglor looked to find Ambarto and Pityo peacefully sleeping beside him, their chests rising and falling steadily and their eyes glazed over.

"Makalaurë! Toron, are you still asleep?" Tyelkormo's voice sounded outside his bedroom door. The handle to the door was turned down as the archer opened the door and entered the room with Morifinwë close behind.

"Aye?" Maglor tiredly mumbled in reply, lazily turning his head to check the time. Was it truly time for them to get ready for the hunt?

It was still dark out, Maglor discovered and then the minstrel realized that it was still storming. "Are we truly going to hunt in this weather?" He inquired of his brothers, who shrugged.

"Why not? The storm isn't too terrible." Tyelkormo answered him, shifting on his feet. Maglor raised a hand to cover his mouth as he yawned, stretching his other arm high up into the air in an attempt to wake himself up. His mind was already sharp and aware, but his body was pleading to go back to sleep.

Even his bed was begging him not to leave it.

"Oh, very well." He sighed, carefully maneuvering Ambarto out of his way so he could slip out of bed. Ambarto stirred when Maglor lifted him up into his arms and stood, but did not wake. He remained in deep reverie as Maglor settled him back down onto the mattress beside his brother, watching with a soft smile as the twins -subconsciously recognizing the other's presence- reached out to grasp each other's hands and shifted closer to one another.

"Oh." Tyelkormo blinked, having peered over Maglor's shoulder to find the reason why the minstrel was taking so long. "So they came to you."

"Aye." Maglor nodded, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen in his face. "Why? Were you searching for them?"

"Not I." Tyelkormo shook his head. "Nelyo was. They usually go to him during stormy nights."

"I see."

"Yes." Tyelkormo then turned to the side and studied Maglor, tsking when he found that Maglor was still in his night clothes. "We'll give you fifteen minutes, Makalaurë."

"How very kind of you. Oh, and, Morifinwë?" Maglor called before his brothers could leave his room.

"What?" Morifinwë paused in the doorway and turned slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow in question. Tyelkormo stopped in front of him, leaning back in order to peer into the room.

"Would you mind returning my robe to me? I would very much like to wear it again." The minstrel casually asked, glimpsing over his shoulder to see Morifinwë's expression.

"Maybe." Morifinwë breezily replied, swiftly departing before Maglor could say anything.

"Morifinwë..!" Maglor huffed, striding over to his wardrobe and opening it. Quickly spotting his old hunting attire, Maglor tugged it out and exchanged it for his night clothes. Once he was done dressing, Maglor wandered over to his bathing chambers to fetch a brush. It took him a long moment, standing there, lost, in the doorway of the bathing chamber, to remember where exactly he kept everything.

Apparently, he went overtime in preparing himself for the hunt that Nelyo had come to fetch him.

"Makalaurë?" Came the quiet call from his bedroom door where Nelyo was leaning into the room in search for him.

Makalaurë dazedly shook his head and stepped out of the bathing chambers to see what his brother needed. "Nelyo?"

Taking in his brother's appearance and catching the lost look he wore, Nelyo stepped into the room, concerned, and made his way towards him. "Is everything alright?"

"Not really." Maglor admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I can't...I can't remember where anything is, apparently."

A look of understanding crossed Nelyo's features and the red-head clasped his shoulder, turning Maglor around and leading him to the mirror in the bathroom. "Sit," The Elf ordered as he pushed Maglor to seat himself in the chair and searched for a brush and a few hair ties. It didn't take too long for him to locate the items and neatly place them on the top of the marble countertop.

Maglor, realizing what Nelyo was going to do, twisted in his seat to look up at him, ready to object, but quietened when Nelyo threw him a look. "Allow me, Toron." Maglor relented, recognizing the look of nostalgia dancing in his brother's eyes. Settling back down, Maglor focused on the feel of the brush carding through his hair, remembering the times in Himring, after Glaurung had destroyed his home, when he would brush and braid Nelyo's- then known as Maedhros- hair. Those were on the days Maedhros wasn't moping around or frightening Elrond and Elros...

"Makalaurë?"

"Hm?" Maglor hummed, Nelyo's voice returning him back to the present. He glanced in the mirror to find Nelyo curiously looking down at him as he tied off one of the long braids he'd woven.

"What are you thinking about?"

"What am I thinking about?"

"You had that look again." Nelyo explained to Maglor.

"What look?" Maglor asked, tipping his chair back in order to better see his brother. Valar, Nelyo was tall...

"The look you get when...I believe you're thinking of your time away from us."

"I have a look?" Maglor bit his lip at this, raising deep blue eyes in question. Nelyo nodded.

"Sometimes, it is a pained one, and sometimes, it is either grief, fear, or wistful...Other times, it is just...a far away look. We can tell when you aren't among us when you wear that look."

"Oh."

Well then...

"What do you think of, Toron? Why will you not tell us anything?" Nelyo asked, hoping Maglor might be able to tell him something. He'd been wanting to know where his brother had been for the last decade and, perhaps, what he'd been doing. But, anytime anyone tried to broach upon the subject, Maglor would shimmy away and vaguely answer any of their questions.

Studying his brother, Maglor could tell that Nelyo was confused, hurt, and worried. "Do we not have your trust?" Nelyo hesitantly asked. He'd seen the way Maglor looked to Fëanaro and talked with him... Whenever Fëanaro was near, Maglor would tense up or keep to himself.

Maglor nearly leaped out of his chair at his brother's question, shocked that Nelyo would think he didn't trust his brothers. "You do have my trust!" He immediately assured Nelyo. "It is just...I..." He trailed off, staring into the distance, searching for the words he could use to explain the compromising situation he'd been placed in. Nothing came to mind, and with a defeated sigh, Maglor shook his head. "I can't explain it. I can't..." He shot an apologetic look up at Nelyo just as the red-head had finished another braid.

Nelyo's blue eyes dimmed with sadness. "I feel that I've lost you, Toron. You've changed..." His hands, holding another section of Maglor's hair, paused in mid-air as Nelyo stared at it.

Maglor felt a pang of grief surge through him at his brother's words. It was true. He had changed, and Nelyo wouldn't be able to understand just by how much.

"We used to be close...Ammë and Atar would always go mad with everything we'd do..." Nelyo released a short chuckle, though it was without emotion, reminding Maglor briefly of when Nelyo had become Maedhros. "Ammë is still convinced we were responsible for corrupting Tyelkormo, Curufinwë, and Morifinwë."

Maglor laughed shortly, remembering, vividly, how Nerdanel had lectured him and Nelyo for teaching Tyelkormo, Curufinwë, and Morifinwë how to misbehave. His laughter died down as he said, "They were already corrupted to begin with."

Nelyo let out a bark of laughter, nodding his head in agreement. "Indeed, they were. She refuses to see it, however."

The two brothers conversed a little more as Nelyo manipulated Maglor's hair into doing what he wanted it to. Maglor basked in the peacefulness of the atmosphere and his brother's presence. He'd always felt safer when he was near Nelyo, even when Nelyo became Maedhros. He remembered times when he was but an elfling and would run to Nelyo if anything was wrong or he needed comfort. Nelyo had always welcomed him, never turning him away.

 _How I wish I were an Elfling again..._ Maglor thought to himself.

"Was it so terrible?" Nelyo's voice pulled Maglor back to the present, once again, and the dark-haired elf shot his brother a questioning glance.

"What do you mean?"

"Those years you were away from us..." Nelyo told him, fixing a portion of Maglor's hair. He stopped what he was doing long enough to meet Maglor's gaze, apprehension brewing in the elder Elf's eyes. "Was it so terrible that you cannot bring yourself to speak of it?"

The light of the Eldar gracing Maglor's being dimmed considerably, the minstrel's face suddenly devoid of any emotion. Nelyo could've sworn the atmosphere had suddenly grown cold, chilling him to the bone.

It was disconcerting for Nelyo to see the blank stare his brother was wearing and the haunted expression in his once-bright eyes.

"Makalaurë?" Nelyo cautiously ventured, regretting having asked his brother such a question.

Maglor's eyes drifted shut. "You cannot even begin to comprehend the pain and agony I bore during those abysmal years, Nelyo..." He lowly said to his brother. "The atrocities that I faced...the gruesome and abhorrent deeds I committed...I beg of you, Toron...Allow me to remain silent...I cannot bring myself to speak or even think of everything...There was so much misery...anguish...and heartbreak..."

Nelyo didn't even realize his hands were shaking as his brother spoke, the Elf disturbed by the words Maglor had spoken. He was struck dumb by the intense feelings and emotions he could sense warring within his younger brother and longed to take them away from him- to take all of the pain, anguish, and grief upon himself and batter away whatever fears clutched at the minstrel's heart. But he couldn't...

Bowing his head, Nelyo pursed his lips tightly together, his red hair slipping over his shoulders to hide his face from Maglor's view.

Maglor, who'd been preoccupied by his memories of his past, snapped his attention back to Nelyo in concern. His brother was trembling...It felt wrong to Maglor, to see Nelyo like this. Why was he... Maglor's eyes widened as he pushed himself out of his chair to face Nelyo.

"Nelyo? What ails you?"

Nelyo bitterly laughed. It was a mocking and disbelieving laugh, Maglor realized, and the minstrel felt his concern growing.

"What ails me, you ask." The red-head repeated, staring at Maglor but not seeing him. "What ails me..." Turning away, Nelyo seemed to dazedly walk out of the bathing chamber into the room, his feet leading him out of the bedroom into the corridor.

"Nelyo..?" Maglor blinked, staring at the spot Nelyo had just been standing but a moment ago, then gave chase. "Nelyo!" He quickened his pace when, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a flash of red disappearing around the corner at the end of the grand hallway. What in Arda's name was wrong with Nelyo? Was it something Maglor had said? Surely...Oh...

Maglor cringed as he thought over the tense conversation he and Nelyo had just had. Grimacing, Maglor hastened after his brother, mentally berating himself and cursing Nelyo for his over-protectiveness and the ridiculously high expectations his stubborn brother had for himself. "Nelyo!" Maglor growled in frustration when he rounded another corner only to catch another glimpse of red vanishing around the next one. "Toron!" He turned around the same corner he knew Nelyo had and crashed into the back of said Elf. "Aiya!" Maglor recoiled back in pain, his hand flying up to cover his nose.

"Makalaurë?"

"By the Valar, Nelyo!" Maglor hisses through clenched teeth, rubbing the bridge of his nose in the hopes of lessening the pain. Why in Varda's name was Nelyo wearing light armor underneath his tunic? Surely he wasn't expecting to be attacked whilst out hunting? "Honestly, you have got to be the most im-" Maglor's voice died out when a hand tipped his chin up and he looked to find that it was not Nelyo he'd collided into but Fëanaro instead. "Atar..."

"Makalaurë." Fëanaro returned, releasing his son's chin and taking a step back when he remembered how uneasy his little Songbird was around him. Awkwardly, the two stood there, in the middle of the corridor leading to the Courtyard, neither knowing what to say to the other.

Maglor was the one to speak up first, "Not down at the Forge?" He inquired of his Father. Fëanaro's piercing blue orbs flickered up towards him in faint surprise but also relief that his son was speaking with him.

"Nay. I have spent much of my time there...I've decided to remain home for a little." The tall Elf answered. Maglor raised an eyebrow in amazement. Fëanaro had purposefully chosen to avoid the Forge in order to remain home? What was this?

"I see." Maglor slowly nodded, spotting Tyelko peering through the grand doors leading to the Courtyard in search of him. The golden-elf raked his eyes down the corridor to see Maglor at the far end with another Elf. He was about to call out to him, order him to hurry up when he realized who it was Maglor was with.

'Oh!' Maglor saw Tyelko mouth, the archer turning his head to look over his shoulder at someone. Moryo, Curvo, and Nelyo most likely. 'He's with Atto!'

Three more heads peered around the door to see if what Tyelko had said was true. Maglor ignored them for the moment, refusing to acknowledge the pleasantly surprised expression Curvo and his brothers were casting his way. Just because he was actually speaking with Fëanaro did not mean that he was mending their relationship as Father and Son. He still held much anger towards the Elf.

"What do you plan to do today, then?" Maglor asked his Father. "Nan-Ammë-" Maglor quickly corrected, cursing himself for slipping into Sindarin. "Is still not home and Curvo, the others, and I plan on hunting. Amrod and Amras are still sleeping in my room."

Fëanaro frowned, looking down at Maglor in confusion.

"Atar?"

"Who are Amrod and Amras?" Fëanaro questioned, the names unfamiliar to him.

Oh.

Whoops.

' _Keep going on like this and you'll end up selling yourself out.'_ Din's voice whispered in Maglor's mind.

' _Indeed.'_ Maglor muttered in agreement. ' _It is rather difficult. I have not spoken Quenya in many a year and I have not called my siblings their father-name in centuries...'_

 _'Understandable, but still, you must be careful of what you say.'_ Din kindly told him. ' _Elf-boy right there is already starting to suspect you.'_

' _I can tell.'_ Maglor thought, mostly to himself, eyeing Fëanaro discretely.

 _'Don't worry about your Quenya issue...I'm working on that right now, as well as restoring your memories. I'll warn you ahead of time, some of them will return as dreams, and it might get a tiny bit confusing...'_

 _'I will keep that in mind.'_

Din suddenly giggled and Maglor mentally gave her what he thought to be the equivalent of a raised eyebrow, silently inquiring as to what she was laughing about now.

' _You do realize he's still waiting for you to answer his question, right?'_ Din asked him, and Maglor started. His Father was giving him an expectant, and slightly worried, look, waiting patiently for Maglor's answer. Maglor managed not to flush in embarrassment when he also found his brothers flashing one another concerned glances. ' _You've been standing there, staring into space, for a while now.'_

Maglor subtly winced. "I meant Ambarto and Pityo." He finally said, the words tumbling from his lips as if he were a child hastily explaining to his parents why he had misbehaved in the hopes of not getting in trouble.

Fëanaro dipped his chin in acknowledgement of this statement, dubiously watching Maglor. "May I ask who Amrod and Amras are?"

"They..." Maglor began, noticing his brothers shifting closer, also curious to know the answer. "They were elflings that I knew."

"Knew?" Fëanaro pointedly repeated.

Maglor lowered his gaze, valiantly fighting against the grief welling up inside of him. "They passed many years ago."

' _You know you can save them, Maglor.'_ Din's voice returned to him. ' _You can save your family from their fates. Don't allow the past to drag you down. You have a newer, and brighter future to look forward to!'_

 _'If I succeed in my task.'_ Maglor reminded the woman. He received the equivalent of a shrug in return.

' _I'm certain you will.'_

 _'You are?'_

 _'I did tell you you weren't alone in this quest of yours. Help is on the way. In fact,' _The woman enunciated the word 'fact,' ' _Help will be arriving quite soon.'_

 _'Who?'_

 _'That, you will have to find for yourself. They will not reveal themselves, so you will have to keep your eyes open and look for the signs.'_

 _'Look for the signs?'_

He received nothing in response. Well, that was helpful.

"Forgive me, Makalaurë," Maglor barely heard Fëanaro say, and the minstrel switched his attention back to the Elf standing in front of him. Fëanaro looked rather startled from Maglor's statement, and guilty that he had brought up the subject of Amrod and Amras's deaths. "I did not mean to remind you of..."

"All is well, Atar." Maglor assured the Elf, "You couldn't have known."

Fëanaro parted his lips to speak then closed his mouth. Maglor's Father tensely nodded, clearly feeling guilty. "Well...I was told by Moryo that you will be joining them on their hunt." He said, trying to lighten the awkwardness between he and his son.

"Yes, we were about to leave." Maglor answered, tugging on one of his sleeves. "I believe they have been waiting for me for quite some time now."

"Is that so?" Fëanaro moved out of his son's way and gestured for Maglor to hurry along. "I apologize for keeping you. Enjoy your hunt."

"I will."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Maglor trailed after his three brothers as they pranced further into the woods, excited to go hunting. He, on the other hand, did not share their enthusiasm. Sure he was thrilled to spend time with his brothers and he was glad to see them happy, but... did they honestly have to hunt in such terrible weather?

First of all, it was raining.

Not that Maglor minded the rain. It was the fact that he knew another ferocious storm was on the way.

Second, it was muddy. The rain was soaking the ground so much that it was now soggy and wet. The mud swallowed Maglor's feet everytime he took a step.

Third, it was a dark and dreary morning, which affected the minstrel greatly. He made sure to hide his dark mood well, so as to not worry his brothers, but it was difficult.

Everything he was doing, everything about this day included, reminded Maglor terribly of his time in Middle-Earth.

Those had been dark days...

"Makalaurë?"

"Hm?" Looking over, Maglor found that Curvo had fallen back in order to walk alongside him. The second-to-youngest Fëanorion was worrying his lower lip as he glanced over his shoulder at Nelyo, who was slowly walking behind all of them. "What is it, Curvo?"

"D'you know what's wrong with Nelyo? He's been upset all morning." Curvo asked, looking up at the minstrel in the hopes that Maglor may know the answer.

"I'm afraid that would've been my fault " Maglor admitted, and Curvo raised his head in surprise.

"You?"

"That's what I said, was it not?" Maglor brushed aback the stray hairs that had fallen into his face and warmly smiled down at Curvo. "Don't worry about Nelyo, Curvo. Give him a few hours and he will return to himself." He promised his younger brother.

"If you say so." Curvo said, kicking at a stray rock lying in the grass. "D'you know Daerada Finwë and Nolofinwë are coming to visit?"

"Truly?"

"Aye. That means Findekano, Turukano, and Írissë will be coming as well." Curvo dismally told Maglor. Maglor tilted his head in curiousity, wondering why Curvo looked so downtrodden by this.

"What is wrong, Curvo?"

Curvo kicked at another rock. "That means Tyelko and Nelyo won't have time for me and Moryo will hide himself for their entire visit, and...well...yeah." He shrugged.

Maglor blinked. If he'd heard correctly, Curvo had just hinted to Maglor that he was going to be lonely and wanted company. He wanted someone to be with.

Curvo happened to catch sight of the smile growing on the musician's lips and immediately snapped, "What're you smiling at?!"

The smile only grew.

"Quit smiling, Makalaurë!" Curvo hissed, embarrassed.

"Are you afraid of being lonely, Curvo?" Maglor playfully asked.

Curvo fiercely shook his head, his cheeks flushing as he automatically went to deny that claim.

"No! What gave you that absurd idea?! Me, afraid of being lonely, ha!" Curvo tsked and looked away from Maglor, much to the minstrel's amusement. "You're imagining things!"

"Oh, dear, little brother-mine," Maglor sang, skipping ahead of Curvo. "What thou wish for shall be thine!" He chuckled when Curvo lunged at him in an attempt to silence him.

"Sh-shut up, Makalaurë!" The Elf stuttered, trying and failing to catch Maglor. He didn't notice Moryo and Tyelko had stopped just ahead of them in order to watch as he vainly tried to catch Maglor, who effortlessly danced out of his way. Even Nelyo was watching them with an entertained smile.

"Thy fear is misplaced," Maglor continued, fighting the urge to laugh as Curvo stumbled and nearly toppled over his own feet when the minstrel had grabbed hold of his wrist and spun him around, "Whilst thou be dismayed," He gracefully spun out of Curvo's way once again when the Elf leaped at him, his black hair dancing in the air. By now, their three other brothers were snickering at Curvo.

"Toron!" Curvo shouted, skidding around and leaping at Maglor. Sadly, Maglor was unable to evade him and was tackled to the ground by his younger brother. "I may have missed your music, but that doesn't mean you can go on ahead and compose these stupid songs when you feel like it!" The Elf grunted when Maglor fought back and the two wrestled with one another, uncaring of the laughter their other brothers were sharing.

"I don't know, Curvo," Maglor said in response, flipping the Elf over onto his back and pinning him into place, "I have several wonderful songs I've composed these past few years...And many of them have to do with your wild adventures as a-" He gave a pained grunt when Curvo, intent on escaping, managed to trap the musician in a headlock. "Don't appreciate everyone learning of your fascination with pon-"

" _Hush up!"_

Maglor jerked his chin down against his chest, causing Curvo's arm to loosen, gripped the back of his brother's knee and placed his other hand beneath Curvo's chin and flipped him back. Once Curvo painfully hit the ground, Maglor spun on his knee, out of his reach and elegantly stood.

"Do you have any idea how many have tried that trick on me?" Maglor rhetorically asked his brother, leaning over his prone form and smirking. "With only one strike, I would have you incapacitated."

"Really?" Curvo dazedly asked, blinking several times in order to get rid of the stars dotting his vision. "What about Nelyo? Think you could defeat him?"

"Hm..." Maglor looked over to Nelyo, who was watching him with an odd expression. One Maglor knew he didn't like. "I would prove quite challenging for our valiant elder brother."

"I'd love to see you duel him, but Makalaurë, you've made one fatal mistake."

"What do you mean?" Maglor was about to turn and see what Curvo meant when he suddenly felt himself flying through the air and crashing into the grass next to Curvo.

Coughing from having the wind knocked out of him, he slowly turned his head to look at Curvo. Maglor found that the Elf was smirking down at him with an arrogant smirk on his features. "Never take your eyes off of your opponent, brother-dear!"

A small, lethal grin spread across Maglor's lips as he eyed his brother from behind his hair and sat up. Curvo slowly started to back away, warily watching his brother. "That you should never underestimate your opponent."

"Uh-oh," Moryo smirked, "You'd better run, Curvo."

Curvo made to bolt away but Maglor was quicker, lunging at the younger Elf with surprising speed and playfully tackling him again. Curvo yelped as he was easily subdued, fighting with all his strength in order to escape Maglor. Maglor decided to have mercy on the struggling Elf and loosened his hold, allowing Curvo to slip out and make a run for it.

Maglor laughed and chased after him.

"By the Valar!" Curvo exclaimed, looking back to find Maglor hot on his heels. The minstrel was as fast as lightning! It was frightening! Was this how all animals that know they are being hunted feel?

"Still as slow as I remember!" Maglor taunted, grinning wildly as he made to grab Curvo. Curvo, in a desperate attempt to flee from him, twisted in order to avoid being caught.

"No-?!" Curvo, in the middle of his turn, slipped in the mud when he right foot tripped over his lieft; and with a small cry, the Elf, flailing his arms in a frantic attempt to catch his balance, tumbled backwards.

Maglor, to his horror, discovered that there was a steep hill behind Curvo and, without a thought, recklessly dove forward to rescue his brother. "Curvo!" He shouted, his hand darting out to catch one of Curvo's flailing arms. Instead of grabbing Curvo, as was Maglor's initial purpose, Curvo caught hold of Maglor's wrist and pulled.

Uttering identical cries, both Maglor and Curvo started the rough, but quick, trip down the hillside, violently tumbling over the rocks decorating the hill.

"Valar!" Tyelko exclaimed as he, Moryo, and Nelyo raced to the top of the hillside. There, they watched as their two brothers went crashing down into the river below.

Maglor was the first to be greeted by the freezing cold waters of the river. He had only just sat up when Curvo fell on top of him, forcing Maglor back underneath the surface of the waters.

Sputtering and coughing, Maglor broke through the surface, gasping for air with Curvo spitting out the water he'd swallowed.

"Ugh, this is all your fault, Makalaurë." Curvo accused, dropping his head down against Maglor's shoulder in a tired manner. "Now I'm all wet." He complained, raising a hand and slapping it against the water. Droplets of water sprayed Maglor in the face and the minstrel blinked in order to clear his eyes and look down at the smaller Elf.

"My fault?" Maglor scoffed, gathering his hair together and dropping it over his shoulder. "How is this my fault?"

"You antagonized me."

"Pft. You are easily antagonized, brother-mine."

Curvo blinked several times, eyes reflecting great confusion as he lifted his head up to study Maglor intently. "You're different." The Elf bluntly stated as Maglor started to wring out his hair. The Makalaurë he knew wouldn't have said anything in retort to any of Curvo, or the others, comments. He would have only given them the smile Makalaurë was famous for and shrug.

Maglor squeezed some more water out of his long hair and raised an eyebrow at Curvo's statement.

"Different? You aren't the first to say so." Maglor told him, briefly looking up at Nelyo, who was making his way down the hill towards them, Moryo and Tyelko in tow.

Curvo said nothing, frowning deeply as he analyzed Maglor. His brother was an enigma. He always had been, but he was even more so now. He was more outgoing than Curvo remembered. More daring, stronger, watchful and his mind was sharp. Maglor seemed to know almost everything. By Varda, he was even knowledgeable in herb lore. Curvo remembered when they had visited the Healing Halls to visit a few Elflings who'd gotten injured while playing outside. They were short on Healers, since that day happened to be the day the Head Healer and most of her staff went down to the market to buy more herbs. Makalaurë had offered to help and without waiting for the Healer's consent, started brewing pain-medicine for the elflings.

By Varda, he was skilled in battle-planning, hunting, tracking, and knew a lot about forging.

Though... Curvo bit his lower lip at the last thought. Forging. For some reason, Makalaurë refused to have anything to do with the forge. He wouldn't even walk into the forgery. He would give Moryo and Tyelko advice every once in a while when they had difficulty in forging, and when he visited, he would watch them from the outside, a pained and far-away look in his eyes.

That was another thing Curvo had noticed. His brother's eyes.

They used to be filled with love, understanding, and kindness, but now...they were dark with grief and wariness. They were also as sharp as steel with determination brewing in them. They were aged with wisdom. Sometimes, Curvo would catch Makalaurë whenever the Elf was alone and watch as the minstrel allowed his cheerful and bright facade fall away. Makalaurë, to Curvo, looked worn down and tired all the time. It worried him.

What had happened to Makalaurë those last ten years? What had he been put through? Why did he refuse to talk about it?

"-Reckless, the both of you!"

"What?" Maglor and Curvo glanced up to see Nelyo and their two other brothers had finally reached them. Tyelko, the one who had been addressing him, rolled his eyes.

"Nevermind." He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as Nelyo carefully clambered down the soggy riverbank and stretch out a hand for Curve to take.

"Come along, now, Curvo." Nelyo said, gripping Curvo's hand when Curvo grabbed it. He tugged the Ellon up and maintained his grip as Curvo carefully maneuvered his feet so he wouldn.t fall back. "There you are." Nelyo gently smiled at his brother once Curvo was up and out of the riverbank. Turning back around, Nelyo found that Maglor had raised himself up out of the water and watched as the minstrel whipped his head back and forth, trying to get rid of most of the water in it.

"Makalaurë!" Nelyo exclaimed as droplets of water sprinkled his face. Maglor innocently smiled.

"Ye-" he cut off, sharply turning his head in the direction of the woods, frowning in concentration.

"What is it?" Moryo questioned, his hand subconsciously teaching for his blade.

"There are riders approaching." Maglor had just barely finished speaking when Nelyo, Moryo, Curvo, and Tyelko heard the sound of hoofprints galloping their way.

"How..?" Tyelko breathed, amazed Maglor could've heard the riders coming from so far away. His other brothers also shared his amazement, staring at Maglor. Yes, they were Elves and possessed sharp hearing, but there was no way possible for them to have heard the horses from such a distance.

Maglor paid them no attention, still listening to the approaching riders.

"Five are coming this way." he informed them, watching the tree-line of the forest, waiting for the riders to appear.

"Then it must be Andatar and the others." Nelyo said.

Maglor broke his gaze away from the forest to Nelyo. "Andatar..." He softly repeated and Nelyo watched, with growing suspicion, as that 'look' returned to Maglor's eyes. He was unable to call Maglor out on it when a warm voice called out to him,

"Nelyo!"

"Andatar." Nelyo greeted, turning to grace Finwë with a broad smile. It had been three years since Finwë had last visited and now, he would be in for a pleasant surprise.

Finwë still looked as majestic and as powerful as Maglor remembered. Fëanaro and Nolofinwë strongly resembled him with their long, black hair, piercing blue eyes, and sharp, but smooth, features.

Finwë analysed every one of his grandsons, noting the brighter aura that enveloped them. They looked to have cheered up tremendously since last he'd seen them.

"Moryo, Tyelko, and Curvo as well." He addressed the three, curiously eyeing the soaked Curvo standing between Tyelko and Moryo. "Out hunting again?"

"That we are." Nelyo dipped his chin in response, watching as Nolofinwë rode up beside his father and stopped, the Elf examining the four. "But, Andatar, you have missed one of us."

Confusion flitted across Finwë and Nolofinwë's kind expressions as they looked over the four again. Nolofinwë even counted lowly, stopping once he reached Moryo.

Nelyo smothered the urge to smirk when Findekano and Turukano's heads peered over Finwë and Nolofinwë's shoulders, also searching for whoever Finwë had missed.

"What do you mean, Nelyo?" Finwë asked, redirecting his attention to his eldest grandson.

"Why, this-" Nelyo reached over Tyelko and Curvo, his fingers grasping hold of the soft fabric he knew to be Makalaurë's tunic and pulled him forward, "-is what I mean, Andatar."

Maglor stumbled to Nelyo's side, having been knocked off balance and turned, marginally widened eyes up to look at Finwë.

Finwë, his dear Andatar...the first of the entire family to fall.

' _Signs, Maglor! Look for the signs!'_ Din's voice suddenly sounded in his mind, and Maglor's brow furrowed. So, someone who was meant to help him was among Finwë's small group? Or...Was it possibly Finwë himself?

Maglor's eyes flicked over to his uncle. Nolofinwë, perhaps? Or, he looked over his Andatar and Uncle's shoulders to see Turukano and Findekano seated side by side on their steeds, eyeing him in return. Irissë's was riding behind Turukano and Maglor watched as Irissë discreetly peered around Turukano to see who everyone was staring at.

One of his cousins, perchance? He could see nothing different about them...

' _Keep looking.'_

It was Finwë's startled and disbelieving gasp that broke Maglor from his thoughts and the minstrel looked up in time to see his Grandfather dismounting and slowly approaching him.

"Makalaurë?"

"Andatar..." Maglor weakly smiled as Finwë extended a hand and grazed his fingers against Maglor's shoulder, as if testing to see if he were dreaming or not.

"I cannot believe it..." Finwë murmured, staring long and hard at the Ellong before him, eyes scanning over Maglor's features.

Maglor couldn't take it anymore. He lunged forward and embraced his Grandfather tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he remembered how much he had missed Finwë.

Finwë, uncaring that Maglor's was drenched in water, wrapped his arms around the minstrel, pressing Maglor's head against his shoulder as the Elf confirmed to himself that his missing grandchild had been found.

"Makalaurë, little Makalaurë...Thank the Valar!"

"Andatar." Makalaurë's vision blurred and the minstrel hastily blinked his eyes clear, refusing to cry.

Finwë was the one to break the embrace as he pulled away and clasped both Maglor's shoulders, gazing down at his grandson with overwhelming joy and relief. He, too, had suffered greatly when he learned of Makalaurë's disappearance. He had grieved for many days and nothing anyone could do could help ease the pain he felt. Finwë loved all of his grandchildren immensely, and losing one of them, to him, was like losing a child of his own.

"When?" Finwë suddenly asked, looking to Nelyo briefly.

"Two weeks ago."

Finwë glanced up sharply, frowning severely. "And I was told nothing? For two weeks?"

"Father did send an invitation for the upcoming Feast." Nelyo helplessly shrugged, giving his Grandfather a crooked smile.

Realization dawned over Finwë catching the subtle hint behind Nelyo's words, and the tall Ellon shook his head. "No wonder...I didn't understand Fëanaro's reasoning for abruptly putting together a Feast after a decade of silence. His missive said nothing but that I was expected to come in two weeks time. I certainly hope he does not mind that I came early."

Finwë then released Maglor from his hold and the minstrel turned to face Nolofinwë. Nolofinwë didn't seem to know what to say or do at the moment, his indecision evident to Maglor.

"I..." Nolofinwë began, but trailed off, uncertain as to where he stood with his nephew. He wasn't particularly close to Fëanaro- no, the entire world would've come to an end if Fëanaro ever considered him his brother- and the only fairly good relationship he had was with Nelyo, seeing as the red-head and his eldest son were close.

When Makalaurë was but an elfling and an adolescent, he and Nolofinwë had spent some time getting to know each other. Nolofinwë had cherished those times he'd been able to teach Makalaurë some things or answer the elfling's questions, knowing they would probably be the only times he ever would. Makalaurë had been a quiet but curious child, and he had been friendly with Nolofinwë- Makalaurë having been the one to actually initiate their first, small, conversation. But, that had been decades ago. He had no way of knowing if Makalaurë's opinion of him was the same as, or influenced by, his Father.

He settled for simply giving Makalaurë a gentle and relieved smile. "I am relieved to find that you are we-?!" Nolofinwë was startled when Maglor abruptly stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

"Uncle." Maglor breathed, refusing to acknowledge the pain and heartbreak he felt. Nolofinwë had suffered so much...And yet, he still followed them, willingly.

He, too, Maglor remembered, feeling a spark of fierce anger coiling within him, had fallen because of the accursed Silmarils.

A little stunned, Nolofinwë could do nothing but awkwardly raise his arms and return the unexpected, but not unwelcome, embrace.

Finwë raised both eyebrows at this, having not expected Maglor to enthusiastically embrace his Uncle, who Finwë sadly knew Fëanaro cared little for. Fëanaro's other children never really did care to get to know their Uncle, other than Nelyo. Makalaurë had always kept to himself but now...

Looking around, he noted, with faint amusement, the looks of bewilderment Curvo, Moryo, and Tyelko gave one another, the surprise reflected in Nelyo's eyes, and Nolofinwë's children's astonishment.

Maglor, recollecting himself, inhaled deeply and stepped back, staring up at his Uncle with a wobbly grin. "Forgive me..." he looked at his Uncle's riding tunic and bit his lip. "Now you are wet..."

"Tis fine." Nolofinwë reassured him.

Findekano and Turukano greeted Makalaurë next, followed by Irissë.

"I'm so glad you're back!" Irissë ecstatically told him, before flushing and hiding her face in Turukano's tunic, embarrassed by her outburst. Maglor laughed, remembering how outgoing and bright Irissë had been as an elfling and adolescent. Irissë was never afraid to speak her mind, something Maglor grew to admire about his young cousin, and she had grown to become a strong and courageous young Elleth...

She, too, had suffered much.

"Irissë, it is wonderful to see you again." He said to her. Irissë slowly turned her and peeked one eye open to look at him.

"Really?"

"Yes."

A happy smile spread across her lips as her eyes twinkled. Abruptly, the young Elleth jumped up and tugged her brother's arm. "Hey, Turukano! Can I get down? I want to walk with Makalaurë!"

Turukano discretely met Maglor's gaze, inquisitively. Maglor nodded to him, silently telling Turukano that he wouldn't mind having Irissë stuck to his side on their journey to Fëanaro's home.

"I do not see why not." Turukano said, carefully lifting the adolescent up and setting her down on the ground next to Maglor.

And so, Maglor was accompanied by Irissë as he and their families journeyed to Fëanaro's home. The Elleth never once stopped talking, always telling Maglor one thing or another. Maglor didn't mind at all, much to Nolofinwë, Findekano, and Turukano's relief. In the awkward moments where Maglor would meet their eyes- every time one of them would glance back to see if Maglor was becoming tired of Irissë's constant talking- the minstrel struggled not to smirk or chuckle in amusement.

Anytime Irissë spoke, Maglor listened intently to see if she was, perhaps, one of the others Din had spoken about, but he didn't see any 'signs' that she was.

This, he found, was not going to be easy. How was he going to find out who was supposed to help him? He was going to need their help, he knew. There was no way Maglor would be able to carry out this task alone.

 _Time was of essence. Who knew how long until Fëanaro would begin crafting the Silmarils?_

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

 ** _Okie dokie...I hope this chapter wasn't bad. If it was, I promise, the next few chapters will be more interesting! Now that we've got all of the characters that'll be involved in this story, I can get started on the actual story!  
Next chapter- Maglor searches for those meant to help him, helps prepare for the upcoming Feast, and Nerdanel's homecoming. _**

**_Thanks for the reviews and PMs! They've been of great help to me._**

 ** _-Juliette Morbu_**


	4. The Memory and Maglor's Eventful Day

_**And I'm back! And here's the next chapter!**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _The Elfling groaned in irritation, trying, but failing, to reach his Mother's brooch trapped in the vines just below the balcony. His arm was just too small! **He** was too small! But he had to get that brooch! It was the only thing he had left of his Mother. He would be damned if he couldn't retrieve that brooch! His brother would hate him if he lost it, especially in such a cursed place as this. _

_Whining in frustration, the Elfing furiously blinked the tears blurring his vision away. It wouldn't help him if he were to cry. Slumping over, half his body hanging over the balcony railing, dangerously high above the stony ground, the Elfling sniffled. His hopes of retrieving his mother's brooch was slowly diminishing. What kind of Elfling was he to lose his most precious possession? The only thing he had left of home? How could he have allowed himself to drop it?_

 _His hand dangled just inches above the brooch, his fingers just barely grazing the tips of the flowers decorating it. He was so close...just a little closer!_

 _Encouraging himself, the Elfling allowed himself to slide a tiny bit more over the railing, his feet now suspended higher off of the ground. One slip, and he would plummet to his death. This thought caused the Elfling to panic, fearfully eyeing the ground far below him then the brooch._

 _No...He needed that brooch!_

 _Feeling determined, the Elfling banished all thoughts from his head, focusing on the brooch lying trapped within the vines. It was taunting him, mocking him for being unable to grab it. He made a wild grab for it, but his hand missed, ruffling the vines instead. The brooch, loosened from its hold, slipped further away from the Elfling's reach. The Elfling pitifully whimpered, wondering what he could do. Could he get the brooch to fall?_

 _He was about to shake the vines in order to loosen the brooch even more then jerked his hands away. No! If he did that, the brooch would fall onto the rocks and break! He couldn't break the brooch! Then... The Elfling wondered to himself, What could he do?_

 _A couple of tears slipped down his cheeks as the Elfling felt that getting the brooch back was a lost cause. He would never get it back. It was lost._

 _One more try._

 _The Elfling sniffled again and reluctantly stretched his arm out as far as he could reach, his fingers splayed out in the air as he tried to grasp the brooch, slipping further over the balcony railing. Now, he was dangerously teetering over the edge. One wrong move and-_

 _"Elrond!"_

 _With a shrill cry, the Elfling's body, greatly unbalanced, tipped forward and disappeared over the edge of the balcony. Utter fear and panic seized the Elfling's entire being as he began to tumble downwards towards the ground._

 _He was going to die!_

 _Suddenly, the Elfling jerked to a stop in mid-air, and with a startled shriek, was jerked up and back over the balcony railing._

 _The sound of his heart pounding drummed in the Elfling's slightly pointed ears as he was turned in the air to face his savior, his body going into shock from his near-death experience._

 _His heart suddenly forgot to beat as wide, dark brown, eyes clashed with vibrant blue._

 _HE_ _had saved him?_

 _The Ellon, holding him in the air by the back of his tunic, stared intently at the Elfling, and the Elfling barely recognized the look of worry and fear dancing in those eyes. The red-haired Elf then narrowed his eyes on the Elfling and barked out,_

 _"What were you thinking?!"_

 _The Elfling hardly heard him over the sound of his heart frantically beating against his chest, but he still flinched as the frightening Elf continued,_

 _"Were you even thinking?! You could have died if you'd fallen!" The fear choking the Elfling didn't allow him to hear the underlying tone fear latching onto the ends of the Ellon's words, or the immense relief reflected in his steely eyes._

 _The Elfling's mind was spinning, his arms and legs dangling limply in the air as he stared at the Ellon. Why had he saved him? He hated him, didn't he? He wanted nothing to do with him or his brother, so...why save him?_

 _"Never do that again, do you understand?" The Ellon sternly ordered. The Elfling said nothing, too in shock._

 _Tears pricked at the Elfling's eyes and a sob emitted from his tiny lips as he dropped his head and started to cry._

 _The Ellon stared at him for a long while, awkwardly wondering what he should do then slowly gathered the Elfling close and cradled him against his chest, using one arm to balance him._

 _The Elfling curled against him, tucking his head beneath the Ellon's chin and digging his fingers into the deep red tunic his savior was wearing as he sobbed. He had been so scared, so frightened... He could've died and that was what shook him badly._

 _That was the only thing running through his mind._

 _That, and the thought that he was never going to climb up things ever again._

 _The Ellon holding him tensed, uncertain as to what to do. He attempted to peel away the Elfling clutching onto him, but to no avail. The Elfling was determined not to let go._

 _Reluctantly accepting the fact that the Elfling was stuck with him, the Ellon turned away from the balcony when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Glancing down, the Ellon bent over and grabbed at the object that had caught his eyes then turned back around, entering his home._

 _He was deep in thought as he traversed through the grand corridors of his large home, wondering why he was suddenly fine with comforting the Elfling. He'd never wanted anything to do with them in the first place...and yet...when he saw the Elfling hanging over that balcony rail..._

 _He'd felt frightened for the Elfling, which had caused him to call out to him. He only succeeded in startling the poor Elfling and nearly sending him to his own death._

 _Subconsciously, his grip on the Elfling tightened._

 _Glancing down, the Ellon found that the Elfling had quietened a bit, nestling closer, taking comfort in him. His brows beetled together. This Elfling was most strange. Unlike his brother, he was calm, perceptive, and relaxed. He never spoke, unless his brother addressed him, but, unlike his brother, this Elfling seemed to accept the fact that they were prisoners._

 _The Elfling would watch him and his only living brother a lot and didn't seem to have any issue with either of them._

 _The Ellon looked up when he found that his feet had taken him to the Dining Hall, where they were supposed to have met several moments ago._

 _Makalaur_ _ë will know what to do, the Ellon decided, shifting the Elfling so he was more comfortable and opening the door to the Dining Hall._

 _He entered the spacious room, filled with few tables, and watched as the few Elves seated around the Family table turned their heads to greet him._

 _"It is about time, Mae-" Makalaur_ _ë began then stopped, catching sight of the trembling Elfling in the Ellon's arms. "Maedhros?" He raised questioning eyes to meet his brother's, silently asking him what had happened._

 _"Elrond?" Elros's worried voice sounded, and Maedhros looked to find the Elfling seated at the table rising slightly in his seat, worry and concern dancing in his grey-brown eyes. "What's wrong with him?" He immediately demanded to know, suspiciously eyeing Maedhros._

 _"Your brother will be fine," Maedhros answered, his tone clipped then turned to look at Makalaur_ _ë and said in Quenya, "You may want to keep a closer eye on him, Kano."_

 _Makalaur_ _ë concernedly glanced up at him, wondering what his brother meant. "Did he go somewhere he shouldn't have? I apologize, Toron. I-" He began, but Maedhros cut him off._

 _"He would have been severely injured, possibly dead, if I hadn't caught him."_

 _Makalaur_ _ë's expression morphed into one of alarm and the minstrel immediately demanded, "What happened, Maedhros? He is shaking like a leaf!" The minstrel, who had risen from the table and walked over to them, gently placed a hand on Elrond's back, rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to comfort the still-frightened Elfling._

 _Maedhros explained in Quenya, "The balcony in the Western Corridor, the one nearest my room."_

 _Makalaur_ _ë briefly looked away from Elrond, silently imploring Maedhros to continue, not understanding what his brother was saying._

 _"He nearly fell- In fact, he did tip over the edge."_

 _"What!?" Makalaur_ _ë exclaimed, horrified, his deep blue eyes widening. "Is he hurt? Is he alright? Why is he not in the Healing Halls? Maedhros?!" The questions tumbled from his lips frantically, and Maedhros had to reach over and shake his brother in order to silence him._

 _"Calm yourself, Kano. I managed to catch him in time."_

 _Makalaur_ _ë's eyes blinked rapidly and his shoulders slumped in relief as he threw Maedhros a look that told him he was eternally grateful to him. Maedhros sharply nodded in return. "Is he alright?" Makalaur_ _ë quietly inquired, brushing away some of Elrond's hair from his face. Elrond whimpered and gripped Maedhros's tunic tightly, refusing to be taken away from him. Makalaur_ _ë smirked lightly at Maedhros's predicament._

 _"Well, it appears that he is glued to you, Maedhros."_

 _"Indeed." Maedhros dully muttered, though he found he didn't mind. "I am not surprised. He has every right to be frightened but..."_

 _"You do not think you should be the one to comfort him." Makalaur_ _ë knowingly finished for his brother, smiling and shaking his head. "Maedhros, Maedhros..."_

 _Maedhros raised an eyebrow at Makalaur_ _ë. Did his brother know something he didn't?_

 _"What?"_

 _Instead of answering, Makalaur_ _ë tugged his brother's arm and led him over to the others. "_ _Come, sit at the table."_

 _Maedhros did as bidden and took a seat in the chair at the head of the table. Makalaur_ _ë sat to his right, Elros beside him, and another, much younger, Ellon sat to his left. Elrond never once moved, and still stubbornly refused to be parted from Maedhros. Maedhros was at a loss for what to do, inquisitively glancing over at his brother, who was still smirking in amusement._

 _"What?" He asked again in Quenya._

 _"You truly do not know?"_

 _"Apparently not?" Maedhros replied, wishing his brother would just answer his question. It was a rather simple one, really, it was only Makalaur_ _ë who was making it much more complicated than it truly was._

 _Makalaur_ _ë smiled that mysterious smile of his, and Maedhros could see the debate taking place behind his brother's eyes. Makalaur_ _ë's eyes had always been expressive. It was a weakness of his Maedhros had caught on to during Makalaur_ _ë's early elflinghood._

 _This debate Makalaur_ _ë was having clearly told Maedhros he was deciding whether or not to let Maedhros on whatever secret he was withholding from him._

 _"Makalaur_ _ë,"_

 _Knowing Maedhros had made the decision for him, Makalaur_ _ë rolled his eyes and said in fluent Quenya, "You are the protector, Maedhros."_

 _"Protector?"_

 _"Aye." Makalaur_ _ë nodded, watching as Elros ate the food on his plate. The Elfling was watching them closely, suspicious and wary. "The little one feels safe with you, just as we all did when we were younger." The minstrel paused for a moment, reminiscing, and grief briefly passed over his features. "Anytime we had a nightmare, we came to you, remember?" He rhetorically asked Maedhros. "We always believed you could chase them away- save us from whatever monsters our imagination had conjured up...It is the same for the little one." He jerked his chin in Elrond's direction as he continued with his explanation. "He does not feel afraid when he is near you. You know, the other day, he had a nightmare." Makalaur_ _ë stopped for a moment in order to chew on his food then continued once he swallowed. "He wanted to go to you, I could tell."_

 _"Me?" Maedhros could hardly believe what his brother was telling him. He was a kinslayer, as was Maglor...But, Maedhros knew he was the more frightening of the two with only one hand and scars. He knew many felt intimidated by him because of his appearance. Thankfully, most of his scars were hidden from sight, except for the one that ran over his eye and down his cheek._

 _"Yes." Makalaur_ _ë answered, looking to Maedhros with a soft smile. "I asked him if he wanted me to wake you, but he was afraid you would not wish for him to disturb you, and so, he came with me to my chamber."_

 _Maedhros gazed down at the little Elfling in his arms, suddenly feeling a pull to the little one. He suppressed the urge to sigh. As much as he wanted to deny it, the twins, especially Elrond, who'd taken time to get to know Maedhros, had wormed themselves into his heart. He'd grown fond of them, just like his brother. Though he kept his distance, Maedhros still watched over the two. Elrond in particular, because Maedhros could sense something wasn't quite right with the Elfling. His silence was disconcerting to Maedhros. It bothered him. Elrond had yet to speak a word, and it'd already been a year since the two had been brought to his home. Whenever Maedhros left Himring, he would often think of the twins. He knew they were safe with Makalaur_ _ë, but the Elflings also needed to learn._

 _Thankfully, it wasn't difficult to find a tutor for the young Elflings. Elrond had befriended Erestor, much to the F_ _ëanorions' surprise. Erestor was well-known for being a secluded Elf who preferred to spend the day scouring the library. He was renowned for his sharp tongue and wit, as well as his extensive knowledge and was helpful to Maedhros whenever he would seek counsel. Erestor, Maglor and Maedhros found, had a soft spot for the twins as well. He never showed it, but whenever the twins needed something, he was always willing to help. Elrond could be seen sticking with Erestor often, pattering after the Elf whenever he would wander through the library in the hopes of finding a new book. Then, Maedhros would watch as Erestor selected something from the shelves, seat himself down, and begin to read. Elrond, after some hesitation, would clamber up on the chair next to Erestor and nestle against his side to read with the Elf. Erestor never seemed to mind, and Maedhros was glad the twins had someone other than he and his brother to turn to._

 _"You know, Kano..." Maedhros began, bringing himself back to the present when he heard Elrond release a contented sigh. He looked down to find that the Elfling had fallen asleep, his eyes shut and his chest rising and falling steadily._

 _"Hm?" Makalaur_ _ë hummed, urging his brother to continue. Maedhros pursed his lips together, deep in thought then turned to Makalaur_ _ë._

 _"Seeing him out there, on the balcony..." Maedhros started to say, images dancing in his mind as the Ellon recalled what had happened but moments prior. "I thought he would fall...I..." He sighed heavily, his brow furrowing as he pondered over his next words. "I called out to him, and that was when he fell." Maedhros raised his eyes to meet Makalaur_ _ë's gaze. "It...It scared me, seeing him topple over the edge..." His grip tightened on the Elfling as he remembered vividly how Elrond had shrieked and slide forward, vanishing as he slipped over the edge. "I thought for certain that I was too late to grab him...I didn't think. All I knew was that I had to save him, that I couldn't let him go."_

 _Makalaur_ _ë gazed at his brother in astonishment and understanding. "You have grown fond of them." He stated rather than questioned._

 _Maedhros slowly nodded. "I...believe I have, Kano." To think that one day, they would have to let them go..._

 _The thought tore at Maedhros's heart. He'd warned his brother several times not to become too attached to the twins, and now look at him. It would be difficult for him to let Elrond and Elros go._

 _'Cursed Oath...' Maedhros morbidly thought to himself, cursing his own father. 'Why did you create the Silmarils, Atar?' He sighed quietly, not realizing that he was carding his fingers through Elrond's soft hair. 'Imagine the life we would be living had none of this happened...'_

 _But in that life...There would probably not have been an Elrond and Elros there to pester Maedhros. He would not have had the opportunity to raise them, and so, Maedhros was content to watch the young twins grow into young Ellons and teach them all that he knew._

 _He made sure to ignore the triumphant look Makalaur_ _ë was casting him, but allowed a small grin to grace his lips at the joy he sensed radiating from his brother._

 _Yes. He would cherish the little time he had to spend with the twins...And they would become like family._

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~** _

"-Rond."

" _Elrond_!"

Elrond started, blinking rapidly as he was pulled out of the memory back to his balcony in Rivendell. He raised a hand to cradle his head as he dazedly searched for whoever had called out to him.

He looked to find both Erestor and Glorfindel leaning over him, watching him with concern. Even Thranduil, who was visiting for a brief time, had walked closer to see if Elrond was well.

"Glorfindel?" Elrond questioned, shutting his eyes as he tried to will away the feeling of being light-headed. His vision blurred when he reopened his eyes, and Elrond found himself feeling a little worried. Was he growing ill?

"Thank the Valar, Elrond! You gave us a fright!" The Balrog-Slayer sighed in relief, clasping Elrond's shoulder and peering closer at the Peredhel, his dark blue eyes swirling with growing concern. "Are you well? Did you have a vision?"

"Nay." Elrond negated, shaking his head. He immediately regretted having done so, seeing as it made his vision spin even more. The world twisted and turned at such odd angles that it made Elrond nauseous. "I was merely...trapped in a memory."

Erestor tilted his head, catching the way Elrond had spoken. "What is it, Elrond? Was there something about this memory that struck you?" He inquired, knowing Elrond was puzzling over whatever it was he'd remembered.

"I'm not sure..." Elrond truthfully answered, rubbing both eyes. Colors blended together and became as one when Elrond opened his eyes once again.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Elrond?"

"I'm...I don't understand why I remembered that particular memory." Elrond murmured, reaching for his glass of water. His hand missed by inches, causing the three other Elves' worry to spike even more. Thranduil delicately lifted the glass off of the table and placed it in Elrond's hand, noting the way the Peredhel's eyes were glassy and dazed. His speech was also somewhat slurred together.

"What was it about?" Glorfindel asked him, giving Erestor a questioning look. It was a look that asked the dark-elf whether or not they needed to bring Elrond to a Healer. Erestor subtly shook his head, raising a hand as if to tell the Golden Elf to wait a moment.

"I was in Himring...Maedhros and Maglor, even Elros, was there." Elrond slowly answered. "I was trying to retrieve Elwing's brooch..."

Recognition and remembrance flashed in Erestor's violet orbs. "The day Maedhros saved you from falling to your death."

"Aye." Elrond nodded, affirming Erestor's words.

"What?" Glorfindel and Thranduil chimed, looking down at Elrond, hoping he would explain himself.

A pained and fond smile grew on Elrond's lips as he recalled the memory, striving to ignore the abnormal feeling spreading through his being. "I was a young Elfling, barely passed six summers old and dropped Elwing's brooch into a patch of vines growing beneath the balcony. Long story short, I tried to retrieve it, discovered I was too small, Atar startled me, and I fell. Thankfully, Maedhros was quick enough to break my fall before I could plummet to my death. I remember that I refused to let him go afterwards." Elrond lowered his dark brown eyes to stare at the ground. "How I miss those days..." He uttered quietly, his voice reflecting how much Elrond longed to be with Maedhros and Maglor again.

"You will see them again, Elrond." Thranduil assured the Peredhel, swirling the wine in his glass as he reclined back into the seat he'd chosen to sit in. Glorfindel flashed him an irked glance, scowling when Thranduil purposefully took his seat, but gladly took a seat next to Erestor.

"I do hope so." Elrond softly said, raising his head up to study Earendil's star. "I have no way of learning if Atar has been released...or if he ever will be. I have yet to hear from Atto..."

All of a sudden, Elrond's head was ringing. The Peredhil felt his body suddenly growing light, as if he were going to faint and felt alarm trickle through him.

"Glorfindel-"

Glorfindel had already leaped to his feet and closed the distance between him and Elrond, crouching beside Elrond's seat worriedly. Erestor and Thranduil had also stood, somewhat alarmed as Elrond went pale, his face draining of all color.

"What is it, Elrond? What is wrong?"

"I do not know..." Elrond managed to say, his words slurring together heavily. He struggled to stand and staggered against Glorfindel when the Twice Reborn Warrior carefully helped him up. "I feel...faint..." His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as Elrond forced himself to speak and the Peredhel was struck weak as his knees gave out beneath him.

"Elrond!" Erestor and Thranduil shot forward to rescue the Elf from having to greet the unforgiving ground, but Glorfindel beat them to it. Neither bothered to hide the worry they felt as Glorfindel knelt to the ground, holding Elrond close as the Peredhel heavily leaned against him, his head limply dropping against his shoulder.

"Elrond, what's wrong? Mellon-nin!" Glorfindel demanded to know, his tone sharper than he meant it to be from worry. He gently shook the near-unconscious Peredhel, trying to keep him awake.

"Elrond, answer us!" Erestor ordered, placing the back of his hand against Elrond's forehead in search of a fever. He immediately whipped his hand back, hissing, "By Varda, he is ice cold!"

"Take him inside." Thranduil brusquely commanded Glorfindel, who didn't hesitate to follow the Wood-Elf into Elrond's study. Together, the three Elves comfortably settled Elrond onto the chaise nearby.

"Elrond," Erestor worriedly called out, patting Elrond's cheek in the hopes of getting him to open his eyes. "Elrond, mellon, please."

"Res...?" Valar, he sounded as weak as he felt, his voice a mere breath on the wind. What was happening to him? Elrond managed to crack open his eyes, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep them open for long. His strength was fleeing from him at a disturbing rate.

"Aye, I'm here." Erestor told him, grasping one of Elrond's hands the way he'd done many times before when Elrond fell ill as an Elfling.

"I'm needed elsewhere...Watch...Imladris...in my stead..." Elrond barely murmured, then his eyes slid close and the Elf fell into a deep reverie, following the voice of Din calling out to him.

"What? Elrond? Elrond!" Erestor didn't bother to keep his voice from wavering, fear growing within him when Elrond didn't respond to his calls.

"What in Eru's name..?" Glorfindel was at a loss for words. Neither of the three Elves had any idea of what had just taken place, only that Elrond was now under some sort of comatose state.

"I don't understand..." Erestor whispered as he tried to figure out what was wrong. Glorfindel placed a hand on Erestor's shoulder when the dark Elf leaned against him.

"Neither did Elrond." Thranduil murmured. "Something is amiss..."

"You don't say..." Glorfindel sarcastically muttered. "Ai!" He grunted when Thranduil cuffed him, the Sinda not having appreciated Glorfindel's sarcasm.

"Don't you sense it?" Thranduil asked them, his piercing blue orbs flickering to the open window.

Erestor and Glorfindel were silent, feeling what it was Thranduil was pointing out. For some reason unknown to them, they felt...different. The atmosphere was different...Everything... It was a wrong and an uncomfortable feeling.

"Something is going to change." Erestor ominously stated. Thranduil continued to stare at the black sky outside while Glorfindel bit his lip in thought.

"Something drastic." The Golden-Elf added, bowing his head in concern.

"Elrond is involved in whatever it is." Thranduil told the two advisers. "We must hope that Elrond will tread carefully."

"He is wise," Erestor reminded them, still watching Elrond, "Whatever it is he must do, Elrond will ensure he takes precaution."

At that moment, the doors to the study swung open and a tall Elf radiating with authority and warmth entered. Erestor was the first to notice him, and when he did, reeled back in shock, his hand flying out and grabbing Glorfindel's arm.

" _Glorfindel_!"

"Erestor?" Glorfindel jerked his head down towards Erestor, wondering what was wrong with his friend.

"Impossible!" Glorfindel heard Thranduil say and followed both their gazes to see what had caught their eyes. Once his gaze landed on the person standing in the doorway, Glorfindel felt his body freeze in disbelief.

The Ellon in the doorway tilted his head at the Elves in front of him, wondering what was wrong with them. They looked as if they'd seen a ghost!

"What manner of sorcery?!" Glorfindel gaped, not believing his own eyes.

"My friends," The newcomer slowly began, a little concerned. "Is everything well?"

"I do not know," Thranduil answered, narrowing his eyes dangerously. His demeanor instantly changed from his normal, aloofness into a shrewd, calculating one. "Why do you not tell me?"

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Maglor hummed quietly as he started pinning up the decorations all throughout the Main Hall of his Father's home, helping to prepare for the upcoming Feast. His brothers were also helping out, but they were spread out in separate areas of the home. Fingolfin's family was also helping them to put up all of the decorations, set the tables, and clean the entire home.

' _Nolofinw_ _ë, Maglor.'_ Din reminded Maglor, and the minstrel quelled the urge to face-palm. In order to ensure that he didn't slip-up and call someone by their Sindarin name, he would need to remind himself to refer to his family and all those he knew by their Quenya name.

Easier said than done.

Servants bustled about the entire room, chattering animatedly with one another. Maglor smiled at the excitement and joy he could sense radiating in the air. The entire atmosphere seemed to glow from the fact that there was to be a Feast celebrating his return. Amrod and Amras- Ambarto and Pityo- Maglor reminded himself, after having been told of the celebration, had been nothing but hyperactive for the entire week. Finwë, who was also helping to set up for the Feast, had taken some time off in order to spend time with Maglor, something the minstrel always looked forward to every day. He also made sure to spare some time for Curvo, who, Maglor did discover, was feeling lonely. Morifinwë was barely seen or heard from during the days Nolofinwë's family was around. Nelyo and Findekano could be seen catching up over everything they'd been doing during the past three years and Tyelkormo was teaching Irissë how to better her archery skills. Right now, however, Irissë was running about the Main Hall, fetching whatever decorations the Elves needed and helping out whenever she was needed. Tyelkormo had vanished, most likely working on ensuring the grounds were clean.

 _Speaking of Curvo_ , Maglor thought to himself, shifting from where he sat atop a wooden ladder, _I haven't seem him all day._

 _'He's in the corner, sulking.'_ Din told him, sympathetically. ' _Poor Elf. He looks terribly lonely.'_

Maglor looked in the direction Din had mentally shown him to see Curvo curled up on a chair in the shadows of the corner nearest the doors. He frowned deeply at the blank stare Curvo was burning into the ground as the Elf rested his head on the arm of the chair and heaved an uninterested, bored, sigh.

It reminded him of the old times...When Curvo would normally be left to amuse himself when everyone else was busy. Well...They weren't necessarily busy, they just claimed to have work they needed to do.

Maglor was guilty of having done that numerous times to Curvo and his other brothers.

Sighing softly, Maglor checked on the frilly decoration he'd just pinned into place, making sure it looked neat, then started to climb down the ladder, catching sight of Irissë running down the Hall towards Turukano, who'd been working beside him. Looking up, Maglor made sure the decorations he'd put up were in order as he descended the ladder.

"Irissë!" A voice called out from the other end of the hall, and the adolescent Elleth turned her head to see who needed her. "Can you fetch a few- watch out!"

Irissë snapped her head to look back in front of her and shrieked when she went crashing into the ladder Maglor had just been climbing down. A pained yelp echoed in the Main Hall followed by a startled grunt from Maglor as he slipped down the last few rungs of the ladder and fell back onto the tiled floor awaiting him. Instead of landing on the cold, hard, ground, Maglor felt himself falling against something softer but didn't have time to see what had cushioned his fall as he watched the ladder teetered dangerously to the side. The ladder, miraculously, did not fall.

Irissë was the first of the two to recover and the Elleth gasped sharply, rushing over to Maglor. "Makalaurë! I'm so sorry! I really- I should have- What- Are you okay!?" She sporadically asked the minstrel, worriedly leaning over the dazed Ellon.

"Erm..." Maglor glanced up at the Elleth, watching as Irissë danced on the balls of her feet, concerned. "I'm fine, Irissë."

"Are you sure? You're not hurt at all?" Irissë inquired, her cheeks glowing red.

"I am certain he is fine, Irissë." A voice behind Maglor assured the anxious Elleth. "After all, he did tumble into me instead of greeting the ground."

Oh...

No wonder he felt his fall had been softer than it should've been.

"Turukano?" Maglor turned his face to see that it had indeed been his cousin he'd fallen onto. "Forgive me, Turukano! I did not mean to..." Standing, Maglor turned to help Turukano stand. Turukano gratefully took his hand and allowed Maglor to pull him up, then smoothed his light robes. Maglor was a little taken aback when he found that he had to raise his head in order to meet Turukano's gaze and blinked. "You...You've grown." Was all he managed to say, earning an amused look from Turukano as the dark-haired Ellon looked down at him.

"That or you've shrunk."

"What?" Maglor raised an eyebrow at this, challenging Turukano. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I didn't hear what you said."

"Indeed?" There was a hint of a smile playing on Turukano's lips. It quickly vanished when Turukano remembered the reason he had been passing by. "Makalaurë, there..."

Maglor grew curious, wondering what Turukano wanted to tell him, but the Ellon did not continue. Shaking his head, his dark mane swaying with the movement, Turukano looked away to study the decorations.

"Nevermind. Tis not important." Turukano said. Then, as if to keep Maglor from asking him what he wanted to say, he asked, "You do realize that your banner is backwards, correct, Makalaurë?"

"It is?" Maglor turned to see if what Turukano said was true, and to his embarrassment, did find that he'd put the banner up backwards. "Oh, by the Valar...What was I thinking? I probably was not thinking at all." The minstrel muttered as he climbed back up the ladder to fix the banner. "Thank-you, Turukano, for pointing that out to me."

"Of course." Turukano nodded, watching as Maglor flipped the banner over and pinned it back into place. "...Varda's name, Makalaurë..."

"Something wrong, Turukano?" Makalaurë inquired, glancing down at Turukano and Irissë, who had pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. "What is it?"

Irissë dropped her hand, innocently lacing her fingers together behind her back as she giggled. "I may not be able to read that well, but I can read!" She brightly told Makalaurë. "And the words on _that_ banner-" She dramatically started, pointing at the banner, "Are _backwards_!"

"Truly?!" Makalaurë's eyes drifted back to the banner and he read the words on it. "For the love of all that's green..." Irissë was right. The words were backwards! "Who made this banner?!"

"From the looks of it, Ambarto and Pityo." Turukano answered, tilting his head in order to study the banner more intensely. "I do remember Findekano saying he and Nelyafinwë were helping the twins on a little project."

Makalaurë felt warmth blossom in his chest as he looked back at the banner. Now that Turukano mentioned it, he could tell the twins were the ones responsible for putting the banner together. It looked as if they had worked hard on it, too. For the words were neatly printed, with some shakiness here and there, and there were a few splotches of paint littered about the white fabric, but other than that, it was perfect. There were even...

Maglor's breath hitched and his hands twitched, nearly dropping the banner.

Seven stars.

The twins had painted seven stars around the banner, with a brighter one in the center of the two words on the banner.

One star was red- evidently meant to symbolize Nelyo. The second was a forest green color.

That was definitely Tyelkormo.

The third was a dark violet. Morifinwë.

The fourth star was a shady red, which told Maglor that it had to be Curufin. The last two were purple, which represented Ambarto and Pityo.

In the center, underneath the larger, and brighter star, was a dazzling blue star, glistening in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

It was him.

Shakily, as if willing it to be a dream, Maglor raised a hand to brush his fingers against his star.

Seven stars.

Down below, Irissë grasped her brother's hand, tugging it. Turukano glanced down at his sister.

"Is Makalaurë alright, Toron?" Irissë asked, watching as a haunted look overcame Makalaurë's features.

"I'm not sure, Irissë." Turukano honestly answered, watching Makalaurë with narrowed eyes. His gaze switched from Makalaurë to the seven stars, wondering why Makalaurë looked a little sickly and shocked. "Perhaps the banner reminded him of something...unpleasant?"

Seven stars...

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

"Makalaurë!"

The powerful shout echoed down the corridor of the Family Hall followed by Maglor's bedroom door flying open and slamming against the wall.

"What!?" Maglor shot up in his bed, his heart skipping a beat when a shadow raced across the room and leaped onto his bed. "Who- Morifinwë! What are you doing?"

"Makalaurë, I swear by the Valar-" Morifinwë began, clutching Maglor's shoulders and shaking him, "If you do not help me, I will do something I may or may not regret later on!"

Maglor's hands flew up to grip his brother's wrists, wondering what in Arda's name could be wrong. "What is it, Moryo? What's wrong?" His head jerked back and forth as Morfinwë continued to shake him.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" Moryo repeated, nearly snarling. Thankfully, he stopped jerking Maglor back and forth when he suddenly went still. Sadly, he wasn't still for long. "I'll show you what's wrong! Get moving!" Without waiting for Maglor to wake up a little more, the dark elf yanked him out of the bed and forced him to follow him out of the room.

"Wait, Moryo, where are we even going?" Maglor inquired. It was the dead of night and pitch black outside. The only light was from the lightning provided by the storm that was brewing outside. Studying his brother, Maglor found that Moryo was still dressed and his boots were muddy. He was also damp, telling Maglor that he'd been meandering about outside. "What were you doing?"

"Clearing my head." Came the clipped response as Moryo led Maglor down the Family Hall and turned left, bringing them through the Guest Hall. Moryo's gait was brisk and hasty as the Elf continued on, leaving Maglor to jog in order to keep up. "And then I found it. I always do!"

"Found what?" Maglor asked when Moryo came to an abrupt hall in front one of the grand windows in the center of the hall. "Moryo?"

Moryo glared out the window then raised a finger to poke the window. "Look out there."

Maglor, confused, did as he was told, stepping closer to his brother and following the direction he was pointing. The darkness of the night was lit up by a brief flash of lightning and Maglor was able to see a glimpse of a stone cliff outside the borders of their home.

"Do you see it?" Moryo inquired, sparing a glance at his brother. Maglor's brow furrowed as the minstrel searched for whatever could've possibly have caught his brother's attention. "You don't." Moryo sighed at this and pulled Maglor closer. "Look at the stone."

"Right."

"Do you see the crack?"

"Crack?" Maglor repeated, narrowing his eyes. He scanned the stone cliff again, looking for the crack his brother had mentioned. The lightning that ignited the sky flashed a couple of times and Maglor was able to find the so-called 'crack' Moryo was referring to. It was small and jagged. It was hardly noticeable and Maglor would've missed it if he hadn't been searching for it. "Yes, I see it." He told his brother, turning to look at him, hoping his brother would explain what they were doing.

"Good." Moryo muttered. "Look at it again."

Maglor did as he was told, not exactly sure why he had to look again. What was so interesting about a crack in the stone cliff?

"Don't just stare at it, Toron. Actually _look._ " Moryo advised, eyeing the crack himself. "Do you see it?"

"I don't understand." Maglor admitted, shaking his head. "What am I looking for?"

Moryo just threw him a look. "Surely you're not that blind, Makalaurë." Jerking his chin in the direction of the crack, Moryo demanded for Maglor to look again.

Sighing heavily, Maglor looked again. Concentrating, he narrowed his focus on the crack and analysed it thoroughly, searching for whatever Moryo had found so interesting about it.

And that was when he saw it.

Something glowing within the crack, as if beckoning for them to come.

"There's a light..." Maglor murmured, curious.

"Good, you can see it." Moryo then wrapped his fingers around Maglor's wrist and pulled the Elf towards the nearest door. "That's where we're headed."

"What? Moryo! It is pouring out there and I am not dressed-"

"You'll be fine." Moryo cut him off, unlocking the bolt on the door and opening it.

A bitter cold wind greeted them immediately after Moryo had opened the door, the rain biting into their skin like small icicles. Maglor shivered from the instant cold but did nothing to prevent his brother from dragging him outside and shutting the door behind them.

"Moryo," Maglor called over the howling wind, "Why are we going to look at it now? Why not in the morning?"

"It'll be gone by then!" Moryo answered, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the freezing rain. Maglor followed his example and together, the two made for the small crack in the stone wall.

"What do you mean? How do you know it'll be gone?" Maglor asked Moryo, carefully following after his younger brother. Looking back, Maglor watched as they drifted further away from the home and disappeared into the forest surrounding it. Almost at once, Maglor was blinded by the darkness. He couldn't see anything in front of him. Not even his hand was visible! And he was certain he was holding it a few centimeters from his face.

Trusting in Moryo, Maglor trailed after his steps. It wasn't long before they emerged from the forest into a tiny clearing where the crack was located. The stone cliff was a lot larger than he'd previously thought, and the crack was bigger than what it'd looked from the window. The light the two had seen was shining even brighter, as if it sensed that they were closer.

"Come on." Moryo didn't waste any time in slipping through the crack and into the hidden cave. Maglor, wanting to know what the glowing light was, stepped in after him to find Moryo standing in front of the portion of the stone that was glowing. "Over here."

Maglor went to stand by Moryo and peered down at the glowing stone. "It's an image..." Maglor murmured, crouching down in order to get a closer look.

"Of a bat." Moryo nodded. "Every single one of these have been images of bats."

Moryo was right. The glowing lines on the stone were bent and curved in order to make a picture of a bat on the stone. A small bat with big, wide, ears atop it's tiny head. The wings were folded over it's small body and the eyes were closed. The mouth was slanted, as if it were smiling mysteriously, and there were two, sharp teeth threateningly bared at them.

"How odd..." Maglor commented, wondering why in the world there would be an image of a bat here in the cave. A cave he never knew existed.

Something his brother had said earlier rang in Maglor's mind and the minstrel stood to face his brother, who was still intently studying the image.

"You said you kept finding them everywhere..." He slowly stated, and Moryo nodded.

"Yes."

"So, this isn't the first one?"

"No. The first time..." He trailed off, reluctant to continue.

"The first time..?" Maglor urged, pressing his brother to continue.

"The first one was in your room." Moryo whispered, averting his gaze when Maglor stared at him.

"My room?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it?"

"When was this?"

No answer.

"Moryo?"

"The day we found you."

"What?" This, Maglor hadn't been expecting.

"I found it in your room...On the mirror, hours before Curvo, Tyelko, and I found you."

"Interesting..." So, this wasn't a coincidence. This image had been purposefully placed there by someone. But, by who, and why? "Wait, what were you doing in my room?"

Moryo suddenly found the ground more interesting after Maglor had asked his question. "I...I often visited your room after..."

Maglor's gaze softened considerably, knowing what his brother was going to say and reached out to rest a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I see." There was silence for a few moments as the two brothers stood next to one another, then Maglor broke it with a question, "How many of these bats have you found?"

"Four. This would be the fifth." Moryo answered, indicating to the glowing image on the cave wall.

"Any idea what it could mean?"

"None." Came the reply. Maglor wasn't convinced. He'd seen that look flash across his brother's eyes, heard the reluctance to answer his question.

"Moryo."

"I don't know, Makalaurë. I have no idea what they could mean." Moryo sincerely told Maglor, but the minstrel knew better.

Deciding to let it slide- for now- Maglor relented. "If you say so." Glancing outside the cave, Maglor found that it was now pouring, much to his disdain. "We'd better return and get some sleep. We need to finish decorating by tomorrow since the Feast is in two days."

"Right." Moryo agreed, and together, they left the cave and bolted back to the home.

 _'Maglor...'_

 _'Din?'_

 _'You truly can be so daft sometimes...'_

Maglor dubiously stared ahead in confusion.

' _What do you mean?'_

He never received a response, leaving Maglor baffled as he tried to figure out what Din meant. Of course...That meant that he didn't get any sleep for the rest of the entire night as he puzzled over the meaning behind her words.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

"Everything looks so incredible!" Irissë squealed from behind Maglor, clapping her hands together in excitement. The Elleth was beaming and bouncing on the balls of her feet as she overlooked the Main Hall. Maglor had to agree. The Main Hall had been transformed from a room where Elves would gather to socialize over meals, to a room worthy of a grand Feast fit for a King. "This is going to be the best Feast ever!"

Turukano shook his head at his younger sister, but even he had to agree. He raised his head when he overheard Findekano and Nelyo laughing over something Ambarto and Pityo had said then looked to find Curvo glaring at Tyelko, who had ruined his neatly-done braids. Morifinwë had vanished, of course, and his Father was nowhere in sight.

He sincerely hoped he wasn't arguing with Fëanaro over some trivial matter. Honestly, Nolofinwë and Fëanaro could put even elfling to shame with their meaningless arguments. Finwë, he noted with some amusement, had long since given up on trying to settle their petty disputes and left them to sort it out on their own.

Yet... For some reason, Fëanaro, to Turukano, seemed different. Changed, somehow. He was unnervingly calmer than what Turukano remembered, and lax. More so than usual. He recalled his Father commenting that Fëanaro was distracted and upset over something, but neither of them knew over what. It was strange, Turukano rememberd, that when they had first arrived, Fëanaro had actually given Nolofinwë a traditional greeting. It also looked as if Fëanaro was unintentionally curbing his tongue, though, most of the time, it was because he hardly paid any of them any attention.

An irritated sigh broke into Turukano's thoughts and the tall Ellon looked to find Makalaurë struggling to pin up one last decoration over the doorway leading to the Main Hall. The minstrel was standing on his tip-toes, stretching his arm up in a vain attempt to slap it onto the doorframe.

"Urg, I am too short!" Makalaurë huffed in annoyance, exhaling in a defeated manner as he slumped his shoulders. He watched as the Minstrel's eyes drifted over towards Irissë, an idea brewing in his dull-blue eyes. "Irissë," He slowly began, catching the Elleth's attention.

"Yes, Makalaurë?"

"Would you mind lending me a hand?"

"Sure! What do you need?" Irissë bounded over to his side, eagerly staring up at her cousin.

"I am going to lift you up, and I need you to put this on the doorframe." Makalaurë explained, handing Irissë the object he'd been holding.

"Alright!" Irissë readily agreed, allowing Makalaurë to effortlessly lift her up onto his shoulder. Irissë gave a bright laugh, kicking her legs in the air as she slapped the decoration in the center of the doorframe, beaming once she was done.

"Hannon-le, Irissë." Maglor thanked her, without realizing that he'd slipped into Sindarin.

"Glassen!" Irissë happily responded.

Turukano sharply looked to his sister. Irissë, realizing what she'd done, slapped her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed. Makalaurë had been about to respond when he realized just what his cousin had absentmindedly said. Staring down at Irissë in shock, Makalaurë and Irissë regarded one another for a long moment, leaving Turukano to watch them.

"Irissë-" Makalaurë began, but Irissë burst out,

"I think Findekano is calling for me. Bye, Makalaurë!" And in a flurry of robes, Irissë darted away towards Nelyo and Findekano. Makalaurë stared after her.

"What..."

"Makalaurë?" Turukano stepped forward, confused from the interaction he'd just witnessed.

"Where did she learn Sindarin, Turukano?" Makalaurë demanded to know, intently focusing his attention on Turukano.

Turukano shrugged. "We have been to many cities, Makalaurë. It is possible that she might have picked up a few Sindarin phrases here and there. She does learn best by ear. She's a terrible reader."

Makalaurë hummed in response, unconvinced as he watched Irissë nervously follow after Findekano, glancing at him in the corner of her eye every once in a while to see if he was still watching her. She would quickly avert her eyes whenever she met his suspicious gaze, causing Makalaurë's suspicion to rise.

Was Irissë one of the 'others' Din had told him about? He would need to find out.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

"Makalaurë," Fëanaro greeted his son when the minstrel entered the Dining Hall. The bell for dinner had just rung and the family was expected to meet together in the Dining Hall to eat. Surprisingly enough, Fëanaro didn't seem to care that Nolofinwë was seated at the same table as he. It was as if he hardly even noticed anyone was there.

Findekano cast Nelyo a questioning look. One Nelyo responded with a mere tilt of his head in Maglor's direction. Findekano's lips formed an 'o' shape, understanding what the red-head was telling him.

"Forgive me for running late," Maglor started to apologize, swiftly taking his seat next to Nelyo, "I didn't realize how much time had passed until the bell rang." Irissë shifted when Makalaurë eyed her for a quick second, his eyes narrowing.

"Tis fine." Fëanaro told him with a weak smile, and Maglor felt another pang of guilt clutch at his heart when he caught the distant tone in which his Father spoke. It was wrong... Wrong for Fëanaro to be this way- to even act in this manner! "We shall commence eating."

The twins immediately dove into their meal, happily munching away at the fruit that had been piled onto their plates. The family awkwardly ate in silence, everyone waiting for Fëanaro to speak- to say something- but Fëanaro remained silent.

Finwë was growing worried about his son's odd demeanor. He and Nolofinwë shared a look, Nolofinwë silently begging for his Father to get Fëanaro to at least say one thing.

"So," Finwë cleared his throat, earning a thankful look from everyone else seated at the table. Only Fëanaro and Maglor continued to stare down at their plates, uninterested in eating their meal. Fëanaro stabbed his tomato and watched the juice leak out of the small vegetable, staining his plate red. A stark contrast of red and white. "How are your projects going, Fëanaro?"

Fëanaro's brow furrowed at the question.

"Projects?" he repeated, bewildered.

The sons of Fëanaro, Nolofinwë, and Finwë discretely looked at one another.

"Down in the forge..." Finwë clarified, his concern rising.

"Oh." Fëanaro murmured monotonously. "I've dropped them."

Curvo nearly spat his drink out as everyone's eyes darted up to Fëanaro in surprise.

"Dropped them?" Finwë repeated, near incredulous.

"Aye." Fëanaro dismally nodded. "They no longer interest me. I have...other priorities."

 _Priorities?_

"Such as?" Finwë pressed, hoping that Fëanaro might enlighten the family. Perhaps, he could give them a hint as to why he'd been so...unusual as of late.

Fëanaro shrugged. "Staying home. Taking care of our home. Nerdanel has yet to return, and she prefers everything to be nice and orderly. I am also watching over the family."

The crickets chirped outside as the families gathered round the table blinked, their minds still processing Fëanaro's words. Maglor was regarding his Father with a stunned glance, his meal forgotten.

What?

None of this made sense.

"Fëanaro," Finwë cautiously ventured, "Are you well?"

Fëanaro's fork froze in the air, hovering just above his fourth, small, tomato as he debated whether or not to answer his father's question. "Am I well?" The Ellon murmured, twisting his fork in his hand. "Am I well?" Fëanaro closed his eyes and set his fork down, pushing his chair back and standing. "No. I am not well." He answered. For a short moment, he stood there, then, he sharply spun on his heel and walked away from the table.

Everyone stared after him and continued to stare long after he'd vanished from their sight.

Maglor was the first to react by shoving his chair back and running after his Father, leaving everyone to watch him with bemused expressions.

"That...was odd." Curvo remarked, breaking the uncomfortable silence hanging over them.

"Indeed." Nelyo uttered in agreement, wondering if he should go after Makalaurë or allow his brother to confront their father. He decided to remain where he was. Perhaps, Makalaurë and Fëanaro could bridge the gap that had been growing between them and they would be able to right whatever wrongs had drifted them apart.

Well, he hoped they would. He couldn't imagine how Fëanaro would be if the tension between them grew steadily worse.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Maglor scoured the entire home for Fëanaro, but everywhere he looked, there was no sign of his father. Grumbling under his breath, Maglor continued his search, opening random doors and peering inside the rooms to see if his Father was there, only to find that Fëanaro was nowhere to be found.

Heaving a sigh, Maglor grimly decided to give up his search.

Actually...

Maglor paused before the grand doors of Fëanaro's large home. He thoughtfully stared at them. Perhaps Fëanaro had left the home.

Nay. Maglor shook his head at the thought, listening to the sound of rain hitting the windows nearest him. It was pouring outside.

Then again... There was a chance Fëanaro had sought refuge in his forge...

Well, only one way to find out.

Maglor quickly took one of the cloaks off of the nearby rack, Nelyo's cloak, and threw it over himself. He may not be comfortable around Fëanaro, but he wouldn't allow his Father to suffer anymore than he already had. If he was going to right the wrongs that were committed thousands of years prior in his life, he would need to mend ends with his Father.

Shunning him in the way he'd been doing would probably lead Fëanaro down the path he'd taken even faster. That was something Maglor couldn't risk. He wanted to save his Father...it was just...difficult to shove aside everything his Father had done.

' _I don't blame you there.'_ Din quietly told him. ' _But I agree with your way of thinking.'_

Maglor weakly grinned in response, prepping himself. He would need to confront his Father... Apologize and...and then what? He couldn't just pretend nothing had happened.

 _'Don't rush it, and don't worry over it.'_ Din advised him. ' _Just let things work out on their own, alright?'_

 _'Right. Hannon-le.'_ Maglor said and started for the doors when they were suddenly opened and a small figure hurriedly stepped inside.

' _He's back so soon?'_ Maglor heard Din ask herself. ' _Well, that wasn't long. Guess he didn't appreciate the rain.'_

The figure Maglor was now watching, quickly shut the door behind them then lowered their hood while placing the basket they'd been carrying on a nearby table.

Maglor felt himself freeze. That was not Fëanaro.

"Of all the days I decide to come home it would be today!" The minstrel barely overheard the figure muttering, scowling. The figure, dressed in rich green clothing, unclasped their cloak, shook it out, and threw it onto the rack by the door. "Hopefully, Nelyo has prepared a fire- Oh! It must be around dinner time!" The figure snapped their fingers, tsking at themselves as they smoothed the wrinkles in their dress. "Might as well join them..." The figure raised their head to look down the corridor and gasped in awe. "Oh my...Everything is so...clean..." They happened to turn around and catch sight of Maglor, standing stock-still a few feet in front of them, his eyes wide. "Oh...Who-?!" The figure began before choking on a gasp, forest green eyes comically widening in shock, a hand flying up to cover her heart as a small scream escaped from her. The small sculpture she'd been holding slipped from her grasp and shattered on the tiled floor, pieces of clay littering the ground.

Maglor didn't move. He couldn't even think as he stared at the very person he'd been longing to see ever since he'd arrived.

Tears welled up in the newcomer's eyes as she frantically shook her head, incoherently trying to form words, but unable to say anything. "It cannot be...Makalaurë? My little Makalaurë?" She earnestly called out, taking a few disbelieving steps towards the minstrel. "Is it you? Please, tell me it is you! Tell me this is not my imagination! You truly are here, iónya?" She demanded to know, her breath a mere whisper in the air as she drew closer to him, her eyes pleading for Maglor to say something- to confirm to her that it was him.

Finally, as if gathering his wits together, Maglor was able to breathe out a single word with fondness and joy,

"Ammë."

It was all Nerdanel needed to hear before the Elleth burst into hysterics, throwing herself at Maglor and collecting him in her arms. "Makalaurë!" She cried, burying her face into his shoulder. "My little Songbird! Makalaurë!"

Her sobs drowned out the sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps as Fëanaro, his sons, Nolofinwë and his children, and Finwë came racing down the corridor, having heard Nerdanel's scream. They skidded to a stop once they caught sight of Maglor and Nerdanel, who paid them no mind. She didn't even seem to realize that they were even there as she hiccuped and clutched Maglor tightly.

Maglor didn't hesitate to reciprocate the bone-crushing embrace his Mother had trapped him in. Ammë was home... Ammë. The Elleth he'd missed the most while he was in Arda. She was back.

"When..? When did you come home, my little one?" Nerdanel asked him, pulling away slightly to study his face.

"Not even three weeks past." Maglor answered her, his voice shaking slightly. Nerdanel flashed him a wobbly smile, raising a small hand to cup his cheek.

"You suffered so much..." She whispered, pained. "I could feel your pain...Your sorrow and grief...I felt it all...and then, nothing." She sniffled. "I feared the worst...I believed the Valar had taken you away...All these years I thought your fëa had fled to the Halls!" She admitted, a couple more tears streaming down and wetting Maglor's tunic. "And yet, here you are...My little Songbird is home..."

"Aye, Ammë." Maglor softly agreed, nodding his head when Nerdanel hugged him again. "I am home."

 _And here is where I will remain._

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

 ** _There you are! Another chapter done! I certainly hope it was okay. Chapter five should be up soon. Thank-you guys so much for your Reviews and PMs! They've been of great help.  
Have a fantastic rest of the week! _**

**_~Juliette Morbu_**


	5. Aredhel

_**And I'm back! As promised, chapter 5 is here! I was planning on posting it earlier, then my teachers decided that they were gonna cram a whole bunch of projects in for this week :/ And finals. Sheesh. Thankfully, school's almost out. So hopefully that means I can continue to work on this a lot faster than I have been. Anywho...**_

 _ **Brief summary- Maglor finds someone he did not expect, memories are restored, and Irissë's confession!Again, I don't own any characters but Din Amarth. Tolkien own the rest. Constructive Criticism most welcome!**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy the chapter :)**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

It was late in the night, three weeks after Nerdanel's arrival, when everyone had retired. Everyone but Maglor, that was. The minstrel, as Din had warned him earlier, suffered from nightmares and dreams whenever he tried to sleep, and tonight, Maglor didn't want to dream. He didn't know if he could bear it. His family, mostly his brothers, had noticed that something was amiss with Maglor, but whenever they asked, Maglor would smile and tell them that it was nothing to be concerned over. Of course, this irked Nelyo, who would wake in the middle of the night listening to Maglor struggle, toss, and turn during his nightmares. He'd even had to wake Maglor up three times because they had been getting worse. During those nights, Nelyo had taken it upon himself to settle in with his brother and to help Maglor bear the dreams. Maglor had made him promise not to tell Nerdanel or Fëanaro, and Nelyo reluctantly agreed.

Just before Nelyo had left the Family Room, he had cast Maglor an inquisitive glance, as if asking if the minstrel would be alright tonight, and Maglor had nodded. He would be fine. He would be fine because he would not sleep. That was his goal for tonight.

"Makalaurë, are you well?" Fëanaro hesitantly asked, and Maglor nearly leaped out of his skin at the sound of his voice. Whipping his head up, Maglor found that Fëanaro had yet to retire to his chambers. Fëanaro had been lounging in the chaise across from Maglor, reading a book but was continually being distracted by the troubled air surrounding his son. It had taken him a few moments to finally decide to ask Maglor if he was feeling alright since he knew the minstrel was still a bit uneasy around him.

"Hm? Yes, yes, I'm fine." Maglor answered, but the tapping of his fingers against the arm of his chair said otherwise. Fëanaro knew something was up from the way Maglor was tapping. There was no rhythm. It was unlike Maglor to do something without rhythm.

"Mhm..." Fëanaro hummed lowly, raising an eyebrow at Maglor.  
Maglor was silent. Stifling the urge to sigh, Fëanaro returned his attention to his book, trying to focus. After a few minutes, Maglor started to doze off. He would jerk every once in a while, trying to stay awake, but after an hour had passed, Maglor reluctantly decided that he needed to get some rest. He gracefully stood from his seat, causing Fëanaro to glance his way.

"I think I will try to sleep..." Maglor said to him, making his way through the room to the door. Once he reached the door, he paused, his hand hovering over the handle as he worried his lower lip. Fëanaro patiently waited, hoping his son would speak to him. As if sensing his thoughts, Maglor turned to look at him. "Goodnight...Atar."

Fëanaro managed a smile. "Goodnight, iónya."

* * *

 _ **Not too long afterwards...**_

Maglor twisted and turned in his bed, his teeth clenched as if he were in pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to wake himself up from the nightmare he was having, but no matter what he tried, he couldn't escape.

Everywhere he looked, there was fire. Screams echoed in his mind and he watched, horrified, as bodies of Elves limply sagged onto the ground, dead. Killed by him.

 _It was the First Kinslaying._

 _Maglor flinched when he slew another Elf, watching, as if hypnotized, as the life fled from his eyes and he fell to the earth. It was sickening... Nauseous, he turned, almost mechanically, and attacked another Elf._

 _"Wake up!" He hissed to himself, clutching his blade tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't want to see this. He didn't want to be reminded... "Wake up!"_

He jerked in the bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a part of his covers as the fire started to make its way towards him, eating up everything in its place.

 _"No, stop!" Maglor exclaimed, his fists bunching up part of his hair. "Wake up!"_

 _"Makalaurë!"_

 _Maglor frantically sought out the voice, clinging to it as if it were his lifeline._

 _"Makalaurë! Where are you?"_

 _"Nelyo." Maglor whispered weakly, searching the field for his brother. He spotted him not too far away, streaking across the battlefield in search of him._

 _"Makalaurë!" Nelyo worriedly called, waiting for his brother to respond, turning his head from side to side._

 _"Here...Nelyo..." Maglor murmured, sinking to his knees the way he had after the First Kinslaying, quaking in horror as the realization of what he'd done came to him._

 _"Makalaurë!" Nelyo shouted, spinning around in search of the minstrel. "Tyelko, Moryo, Ambarto, Pityo, Curvo..." He named off his brothers, still finding one missing. Where was Makalaurë?_

 _"Nelyo!" Maglor finally managed to call and Nelyo whirled around. Finding Maglor kneeling on the ground far from him, Nelyo bolted his way, worry and fear gnawing at his heart. Was Makalaurë injured? Was he terribly wounded?_

 _"Makalaurë? Are you well? Are you injured?" Nelyo demanded to know, concern flowing in his voice as he grasped Maglor's shoulders. Maglor shook his head, immediately regretting the movement when his vision started swimming. "What is it? What's wrong?"_

 _"THIS!" Maglor suddenly exploded, sending Nelyo reeling back when he sensed the intensity of Maglor's anger, self-hatred, and overwhelming guilt. "This is wrong! Everything is wrong!"_

 _Tyelko, Curvo, and Moryo took a safe step back, staring at their normally calm and peaceful brother. Ambarto and Pityo watched them with tear-filled eyes, sniffling pathetically as they studied all of the Elves they'd killed._

 _"Why, Nelyo? Why must we do this?!" Maglor shouted, his hands flailing through the air, his face burning red. His hair was as wild as Maglor felt, strands sticking out here and there, sweat drenching his clothes, as well as blood. "Why..." He weakly whispered, his breath catching on a sob._

 _"Makalaurë-" Nelyo started, but Maglor cut him off._

 _"No. Don't call me that name." He bit out, his mind whirling._

 _Wake up!_

 _Nelyo slowly stood after him, reaching out a hand to grab his brother, but Maglor slapped it away. "How can you be so calm? How, Nelyo?! Don't you see what we've done?! Don't you see what we've become!"_

 _He was becoming close to hysterical that even Nelyo felt frightened. Ambarto and Pityo hid behind Moryo and Curvo, watching as Maglor suddenly barked out a laugh._

 _"Look what we've done...What we've become. We've become the very monsters we used to hate in the children's stories." He gasped in between breaths._

 _Please, wake up!_

 _"Makalaurë!"_

 _"Don't call me that!" Maglor sharply rebuked Nelyo, who stepped back in surprise when the minstrel advanced upon him. "I am not Makalaurë! Makalaurë is dead! He has been ever since those accursed **jewels** were created!"_

 _"Maka-"_

 _"Maglor."_

 _"What?" Nelyo blinked, gazing down at his brother in confusion._

 _"My name is Maglor. Not Makalaurë. Maglor. This," Maglor gestured to himself then the battlefield around them, "Is Maglor, therefore, I am Maglor." Breathing out a sigh, Maglor calmed enough to add, "Makalaurë is lost...and he is never coming back."_

* * *

Maglor's eyes snapped open when he awoke from the nightmare, his being trembling violently. Perspiration trickled down his forehead as his silky nightclothes clung to his skin, damp with sweat. Panting heavily, eyes wildly raking across the room, Maglor raised a hand to calm his frantically beating heart. That dream...It couldn't have just been a dream.

"Oh Valar…" He breathed. It was a memory. Another memory. He blanched, his face draining of color as he recalled the memory vividly.

So much blood… There was so much blood. Blood that Maglor had both lost and shed. Images flashed uncontrollably before him, creating a world of the future around him. There were Elves everywhere, littering the battlefield. He watched with wide-eyes as many were cut down by the Feanorian army.

Shaking even more, Maglor felt tears welling in his eyes as he listened to their screams echoing in his mind, their blank eyes glazed over as they stared, lifelessly, at the sky.

"No…" Maglor breathed as he watched Amrod and Amras slay yet another Elf, their faces stricken as they forced themselves to claim these innocent lives. "Please, no…"  
More screams...Cries of anguish and despair. The images of his brothers slaying their own kin danced across Maglor's mind.  
"Stop!" He cried, slapping his hands over his ears in a frantic effort to drown out the familiar voices of his brothers. "Go away! Go away! Leave me be!" He breathlessly pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut, but the battle continued to plague his mind. It was so vivid, so real…

And they were there with him, in the darkness behind his closed eyes. Gasping loudly, Maglor struggled to keep his breathing under control as he stumbled towards his bedroom door.

He needed comfort. He needed safety. He needed to be brought back here, to the past. He couldn't bear the future.

And there was only one Maglor knew who could help him.

Without wasting any time, Maglor fled from his room, hastily making his way to the Family Room, silently pleading for the Elf he needed to be there. Once he arrived, Maglor quietly, but hurriedly, opened the door and stepped inside. Timidly looking up, Maglor found, much to his relief, that he was, in fact, still there.

Upon hearing the door opening, Fëanaro raised his head to see who was still up so late in the night. Seeing that it was Maglor, and noting the frightened expression gracing his features, the Ellon slowly sat up.

"Makalaurë?"

Maglor nearly flinched at the name. "I...Forgive me, but...I couldn't be alone." He quietly explained, hoping his Father would understand. "May I stay here...with you?" He shyly raised his eyes to meet his Father's, unsure of what Fëanaro would do.

Fëanaro almost forgot to answer his son, his book nearly slipping from his lap, taken aback by his request. "O-Of course, Makalaurë." He answered, nodding his head and waving a hand in the direction of the couch across from him.

Maglor gave him a relieved smile and immediately went to curl up on the couch, basking in his Father's presence. Settling in, Maglor watched as Fëanaro studied him for a moment, wearing a strange expression, before he awkwardly returned to his book. Maglor smiled again, recognizing the growing hope he'd caught dancing in his Father's eyes.

All was silent as Maglor allowed his eyes to drift shut, listening to the comforting sound of Fëanaro turning the pages of his book. He could sense his Father's presence enveloping the entire room. It was powerful and strong, intimidating, but with a sense of safety. It helped Maglor to relax as he focused on his Father.

How he had missed Fëanaro. No matter how many times Maglor cursed him and wanted to hate him, he still wanted to have his Father with him. The Father he knew from when he was an elfling.

Before the Silmarils ever came into existence.

Maglor cringed at the thought, his hand twitching when a burning sensation ran across it. Again, his thoughts turned to everything the Silmarils and his family were responsible for. His mind was plagued by the atrocious deeds they'd done and how much Arda had suffered.

The Silmarils. They needed to be destroyed. No. He needed to prevent them from being made. He had to keep Fëanaro, his Father, from forging them. That way, everything that happened in Maglor's life would never come to pass.

But...Should he fail...

Maglor worriedly flicked his eyes down to look at his gloved hand.

What would happen if he were to fail? If the Silmarils were still created, despite his intentions on vanquishing them... Would he make everything worse? What would happen if they came back? Would Maglor lose everyone again? How many would fall? How many nations would cease to exist? How many would suffer?

What would happen to Arda?

 _'Maglor! Stop that!'_ Din's voice broke into his racing thoughts as Maglor started to work himself up over his fears. _'You are not going to fail!'_

 _'What if I do, Din? What if I do fail? What then? What if, everything I do here, is for nothing? What if I make everything even worse than before? What then?'_

 _'Maglor!'_

But Maglor wouldn't listen to her, too focused on his thoughts.

' _What if you were to create a better future?'_ Din then asked him, and Maglor felt an instant wave of calm wash over him. ' _Think of everything that would happen if you were to succeed, Maglor. You would have your family, you would save the lives that were lost before, there would be no need for war, no Kinslayings...'_

 _'You are right.'_ Maglor agreed, thinking over what Din had said. Think of a better future, Maglor told himself, trying to envision what that future would look like. He would ensure no one suffered needlessly because of the Silmarils. Elrond and...

Elrond!

And Maglor's world came crashing down.

Din was silent, knowing immediately what Maglor was thinking.

 _I would never be able to raise Elrond and Elros...I wouldn't...They wouldn't be a part of my life..._

The minstrel thought, terrified by the thought. Even though Elrond and Elros weren't his sons by blood, he still loved them as if they were his own. The twins had been what saved Maglor from despairing and fading. It had been the twins who had returned Nelyo to Maglor, who had helped Maglor to cling to his will to survive. If Maglor had never met the twins...He was certain he would never have made it.

One of the reasons why Maglor had never given into grief after Maedhros's death, was because of Elrond. Elrond was still alive and Maglor had not the heart to leave him. After everything Elrond had unknowingly done for him...

 _'If I rewrite history, they'll never be mine...I won't be blessed to have them in my life...'_ This was unacceptable to Maglor. He couldn't bring himself to think of a life without Elrond and Elros. ' _I met them because of the Silmarils...Without them...'_

It was a horrible thought, but Maglor didn't want to let go of Elrond and Elros. He didn't want Elwing or Earendil to take them away...

' _You loved them..._ ' Din softly remarked, catching a glimpse of Maglor's memories of his time with Elrond and Elros. There was hardly one that didn't involve all of them smiling, excluding the memories from after the ransacking of the Havens of Sirion and taking the Half-Elven twins hostage.

' _I did...Do. They were my sons in all but blood. I don't want to lose them...'_

But, a part of Maglor said, they would live a happier life.

It was true, and yet, he still didn't want to live a life without the twins.

Maglor felt truly empty inside. Without Elrond and Elros...it wouldn't be the same. But, if he were to be honest, he didn't deserve to have the twins in his life. The twins deserved more than he was ever able to give them.

"Makalaurë?" Fëanaro's quiet, inquisitive, voice reigned Maglor back to the present, and the minstrel realized that he had tears in his eyes. Furiously, Maglor raised a silken sleeve to wipe them away.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder and Maglor blearily looked up to find Fëanaro kneeling beside the couch, watching him with concern.

' _No.'_ Maglor thought to himself. ' _I don't deserve you're concern. After everything I've done...You're not the Fëanaro I knew, and yet, I mistreated you...I held you responsible for something you haven't done.'_

 _'Yet.'_ The pessimistic part of Maglor's mind reminded him, but Maglor purposefully ignored it.

Closing his eyes, Maglor whispered, "Forgive me, Atar...I lied to you."

"You lied?" Fëanaro repeated, wondering what his son meant. Maglor reopened tear-filled eyed, regret and sorrow dancing within them as he shifted closer to Fëanaro, wanting to be nearer to his Father. He would be lying if he claimed that he didn't miss him during his time in Arda.

"I'm not okay." Maglor admitted, leaning against his Father, shocking Fëanaro as the minstrel wrapped his arms tightly around him and rested his head against his shoulder. "I'm not okay..." He mumbled into the fabric of Fëanaro's tunic, allowing the tears to fall. Fëanaro remained still for a long moment, hardly daring to believe that this was happening. After everything that had been going on between them, the tension that had been growing, he never dared to think Maglor would ever come to him. But, hearing the stifled sobs escaping Maglor's lips, Fëanaro moved to sit onto the couch and gathered his son close to him the same way he had when Maglor was an elfling. Even if this didn't mean that his son was returning to him, Fëanaro would cherish this moment and give his Songbird the comfort he needed.

His son trembled as he sobbed and Fëanaro ran his fingers through his hair while rocking him back and forth in a soothing manner.

"Sh, my little Songbird...Why do you weep?" Fëanaro whispered against Maglor's hair. "You have done nothing wrong..."

"That's where you're wrong..." Maglor replied, his breath hitching a couple of times as he tried to contain his sobs. "I've done so many terrible things...I didn't want to...but I still did it. And for what?"

Fëanaro didn't understand what Maglor was saying, so he remained silent, tightening his hold on Maglor when he felt his son's grief and agony rise. He recognized, however, the tone Maglor used, and the grief, pain, and sorrow his son felt. Fëanaro felt his son's pain as if it were his own, felt his own heart clench when he realized that his son's pain was beyond his understanding. What had happened to Maglor? What had he been put through? He was in so much pain...

"What did you lose?" Fëanaro didn't mean to ask the question aloud, but the words escaped from him before he even thought of them. But, now that he asked it, Fëanaro found that he feared the answer he would receive.

"Everything." Came the small, broken, whisper. "Every night...I see it...I see everything. They aren't dreams or nightmares...They're memories...Memories..."

"Makalaurë..." Fëanaro uttered softly, planting a kiss on the crown of his son's hair. "I'm so sorry...You don't deserve this...You didn't deserve any of it." He said nothing more, protectively holding Maglor as if he were trying to fight away the pain his son was in. Even though he knew he would never be able to take it away, Fëanaro hoped that he could at least ease the pain his son felt.

Shifting in order to make himself and his son more comfortable, Fëanaro leaned back against the arm of the couch, smiling slightly when Maglor curled against him. It reminded Fëanaro of when Makalaurë would seek him out after he'd had a terrible dream. The elfling always came to him, silently pleading for his Father to chase away his nightmares. Makalaurë had been so small for an elfling. So tiny that he would curl up on Fëanaro's chest and sleep there for the entire night. Fëanaro would have to make sure not to move too much for fear that he might knock Makalaurë off.

Then, when Fëanaro started spending more time in the forge and less time with his family, Makalaurë and his younger sons all sought comfort from Nelyo. Then, Makalaurë grew and the brothers turned to him. His sons had become close, forming an unbreakable bond with one another. Each and everyone of them was protective of the other. His elders sons were extremely protective of Ambarto and Pityo, always doing their best to shield them from whatever dangers dared threatened them.

Even the smallest of dangers could provoke his elder sons into flying to the twins' rescue.

There were a couple of memories Fëanaro specifically remembered. They were a few of his favorite memories and those Nerdanel loved to remember.

Ambarto and the spider.

Mind you, it was not a large spider. Nor was it exactly small. But it was just that- a spider.

A spider.

But his sons...Leave it to them to make something bigger than it really was.

The other was Pityo and his shadow.

That had been most amusing.

Chuckling quietly, Fëanaro recalled the first time Pityo ever came to find that he had a shadow. The look that had crossed the elfling's face when he saw something shady and black following his every move had been most amusing. When Pityo tried, and failed, to run away from his shadow, the poor elfling had grown wild with terror that Nelyo, Makalaurë, Tyelko, Curvo, and Moryo stepped in before Fëanaro or Nerdanel could go to him.

* * *

When Ambarussa's third begetting day had just passed, Ambarto discovered a spider in their room. At first, he'd been intrigued by the little critter, and watched it, wondering where the fluffball had come from. And then he found that said 'fluffball' had long, skinny legs and eight eyes...

It was Ambarto's alarmed screaming that sent his five elder sons tearing across the home to his rescue. Fëanaro remembered how Nelyo had been training Moryo at that time. Tyelko was practicing his archery, Curvo was working on making a crown out of sticks, and Makalaurë was down in the gardens composing a new song on the harp Nerdanel had bought for him. When Ambarto had screamed, Nelyo and Moryo had dropped their weapons and bolted across the clearing to the house. Curvo had let go of his crown and followed with Makalaurë streaking ahead of them. Nerdanel and Fëanaro, who had been working in the forge, heard their son's terrified cry and also darted out to see if something had happened to Ambarto.

They arrived in time to see Nelyo about to crush the spider when Makalaurë intervened.

"Don't kill her!" The minstrel had called, horrified that his brother would go to such extremes to rid Ambarto of the critter. Nelyo, hearing his brother's cry, just barely managed to avoid crushing the spider, his boot landing right next to it. Makalaurë had quickly cupped the furry spider up into his hands and stepped away from his brothers. "She did nothing to you."

"She? How do you know it's a she?" Curvo had asked, wrinkling his nose at the fluffy spider. Makalaurë had shrugged in response.

"She's fluffy." Was all he said, patting the spider with his finger.

"It's ugly." Moryo had stated, ruffling Ambarto's hair from where the Elfling had hidden behind him. The elfling had wrapped his arms around Moryo's knee, peering around the dark elf in order to see the spider, nodding in agreement. His tiny face scrunched up in disgust at the critter, wishing that it would be taken out of his sight. Makalaurë had shot Moryo a disapproving look.

"She, Moryo." He corrected. "And _she_ is not ugly."

"Pft. You're strange, Toron." Moryo had muttered, crossing his arms.

"See? Harmless." Makalaurë had assured them, holding out his hands so they all could see the brown speck he protectively held. As if to prove him wrong, the spider turned to look up at him, then jumped, legs wildly flailing in the air as if trying to grab hold of the minstrel hair.

Makalaurë had let out a small cry as he stumbled back and struck the spider with his hand, sending it sailing into the ground. There was a tiny 'crack' that could be heard when the spider hit the unforgiving ground and skidded towards Nelyo.

"Nelyo, kill it!" Makalaurë had ordered, watching as Nelyo immediately smashed the spider underneath his boot. When the spider was proclaimed dead, Nelyo and the other brothers snickered at Makalaurë.

"'See? Harmless.'" Curvo had mimicked, earning a deadly glare from Makalaurë.

"'Don't kill her!'" Moryo added.

"'Nelyo, kill it!'" Tyelko finished and Makalaurë rolled his eyes.

"Whatever."

"Is Makalaurë afraid of spiders?" Nelyo had teased and Makalaurë shot him an incredulous look.

"If I was afraid of it, I wouldn't have picked it up!" He pointed out, gesturing to the remains of the spider staining the floor. He gave the squished remains a sympathetic glance then turned away.

"Oh, so _she's_ an _it_ now, huh?" Moryo had asked, Tyelko and Curvo raising an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, do be quiet!"

* * *

Fëanaro blinked once the memory was over and looked down to see that Makalaurë had fallen asleep with his head tucked underneath Fëanaro's chin. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the slow breathing attested to that.

Well...

Now he was stuck. He couldn't move lest he wake Makalaurë, and that was something Fëanaro didn't want to do. Makalaurë had finally come to him, had finally spoken to him without any fear or signs of being uncomfortable, and this was how Fëanaro wanted it to be. He feared that if Makalaurë woke, everything would return back to the way it was.

Shrugging, Fëanaro remained where he was and studied his son's peaceful features. He frowned when he noticed the dark circles underneath Makalaurë's eyes, a tell-tale sign that he hadn't been sleeping well. If he remembered correctly, Nelyo had been hinting to the fact that Makalaurë hadn't had a good night's rest for the past few weeks due to nightmares. Nightmares that Makalaurë had told him were memories.

They had to be awful memories, and it hurt Fëanaro to see his son suffering from whatever had happened to him. "I'm sorry, little one..." Fëanaro whispered aloud, his voice carrying throughout the silent room. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you..." He wiped the tear stains from Makalaurë's pale face with his thumb then stretched his arm out to grab his cloak he'd discarded on the floor. Using it to cover Makalaurë, Fëanaro settled against the arm of the couch and rested his head against his son's. Slipping deeper into the realm of dreams, Fëanaro allowed himself to slip away and give in to his need for sleep.

And for once, in a long while, Fëanaro was finally able to get a good night's rest.

* * *

 _ **~The Next Day~**_

Nerdanel pursed her lips tightly as she walked through the corridors of her arm, heading straight for the Dining Hall. Fëanaro hadn't come to their chambers last night and apparently, Makalaurë was nowhere to be found, and she was growing concerned. She had noticed at once the incongruity between her husband and son, and it pained her to see it just as it pained Fëanaro to be shunned by his own child. Nerdanel, however, Makalaurë was comfortable with. In fact, he was almost attached to his mother. More so than he was before, as if Makalaurë were afraid he was going to lose her. Nerdanel had allowed Makalaurë to accompany her on simple trips down to the market and to try a hand at sculpting. He was fairly good but Nerdanel had noticed that her son couldn't do much. He always worked with only one hand. He used his right hand, sometimes his left, to complete his work. She would watch him closely, always wondering if his left hand had been terribly injured and he was hiding it from prying eyes- hence the glove he wore over his hand. Sometimes, when Makalaurë didn't believe he was being watched, he would stop everything he was doing and carefully cradle his left hand in pain. Another thing she had noticed was that Makalaurë no longer sang. He no longer composed songs on a whim and it saddened Nerdanel greatly. She always loved listening to her son when he would compose new music, but she knew that he was most reluctant to, and so, she never pressed him.

Striding towards the Dining Hall doors, Nerdanel pushed them open and stepped inside, immediately asking those seated at the table,

"Where is Makalaurë? And have you seen Fëanaro?"

Nelyo and his brothers looked to one another.

"I have yet to see either of them today." Finwë answered Nerdanel's question, Nolofinwë nodding along with his Father's words.

"I have not seen Fëanaro or Makalaurë, Nerdanel." He said to her.

"Makalaurë wasn't in his room?" Nelyo asked, and Nerdanel huffed.

"I've already looked there. He's not there."

Concern flashed across Nelyo's features as he sat up. "He wasn't there?" He repeated, slowly pushing his chair back.

"No." Nerdanel sighed, wondering what was wrong with Nelyo.

Nelyo turned to his brothers, gesturing for them to leave their meal. "Come, brothers. We must find Makalaurë." Neither of them questioned him, each pushing away from the table and leaving after him. Nerdanel quickly followed, jogging in order to keep up with their pace. She watched as her sons opened every door they passed, glancing inside to see if Makalaurë happened to be in any of the rooms.

Makalaurë wasn't in any of them.

They reached the end of the hall and Nelyo quietly opened the door to the Family Room, pressing a finger to his lips while he did so. "I know Atto was here last night. He may have stayed." He lowly whispered to them before opening the door even more. Stepping inside, Nelyo's gaze immediately fell upon the couch next to the fireplace. He easily recognized Fëanaro without having to see his face and indicated for his brothers and mother to enter the room. Nerdanel breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted her husband and softly padded over to him. She stopped when she found that Fëanaro wasn't the only one taking up space on the couch.

Nerdanel couldn't help but smile and coo at the sight that greeted her. Her sons, curious to know what had earned such a reaction from their mother, stepped closer to her and looked at the couch.

It was then they spotted their missing brother. Makalaurë had fallen asleep -with his eyes closed, his brothers noticed- curled up against Fëanaro, with his head resting on his Father's chest and a serene expression etched into his features as he slept without a care in the world. Fëanaro was also slumbering away, his head turned away and resting against the arm of the couch, one of his arms dangling over the edge of the sofa and the other lightly embracing Makalaurë so he wouldn't fall. Fëanaro's black cape covered the both of them, providing them with warmth they didn't necessarily need.

The brothers glanced at one another in amazement. Nelyo easily surmised what must have happened the night before and smiled at Makalaurë's snoozing form. Makalaurë, instead of coming to him, had gone to Fëanaro after his nightmare. Then, Nelyo frowned, troubled. It must have been one awful dream if Makalaurë had been frightened enough to go to their Father for comfort.

Nerdanel quietly crept closer to the two sleeping forms on the couch and leaned over Fëanaro. "Fëanaro," She whispered, gently patting his cheek. He didn't wake, nor did he stir, still trapped within Irmo's realm. "Fëanaro." Nerdanel said again, loudly this time.

Fëanaro's brow furrowed as he moved his head in the direction of her voice. Slowly, his eyes started to lose the hazy look of sleep. Blinking several times, Fëanaro turned his head to look up at Nerdanel, a little confused and distorted.

"Nerdanel?"

Nerdanel softly smiled at him. "Morning, love."

"Morning? Already?" Fëanaro mumbled, raising a hand to rub both of his eyes. Well, he tried to raise it, but it was trapped against something. Looking down, Fëanaro was greeted with a face-full of silky black hair and the Ellon took a moment to realize that Makalaurë was still using him as a pillow and had yet to awaken. For a moment, Fëanaro continued to stare down at his second-born, as if in disbelief, then flicked his gaze up to meet Nerdanel's. "He came..."

"Yes." Nerdanel happily nodded, sensing her husband's joy and blooming hope. "We were just looking for him, too." She gestured to their other sons. Nelyo stepped forward and asked his brother,

"How is he?" His gaze never once wavered from Makalaurë, concerned. Fëanaro thoughtfully combed his fingers through Makalaurë's hair as he answered his eldest's question,

"Better than he was before, I believe."

Nerdanel carefully settled herself down on the edge of the couch, reaching out to tug a stray strand of Makalaurë's hair behind his ear. "Did he speak to you?" She inquired, and Fëanaro heard all of the other questions behind the one she'd asked.

Fëanaro grievously sighed, becoming troubled once more. "Those nightmares he's been suffering from..." He started, trailing off when Makalaurë shifted. Fearing that he would wake, everyone held their breaths. When Makalaurë made no further move to stir, they released them and waited for Fëanaro to finish. "They aren't nightmares. They are memories."

"Of what happened to him during the last decade?" Curvo quietly asked, knowing at once that he was correct. Fëanaro nodded.

"I believe so." He sighed heavily. "He carries such a heavy burden."

Nerdanel comfortingly laid a hand against his shoulder. "We can help him, Fëanaro. We only have to be there for him and wait for Makalaurë to come to us. I'm certain he will tell us everything when the time is right." She assured him.

"I hope." Fëanaro murmured, a little lost in thought as he regarded Makalaurë. Suddenly, his eyes brightened as if an idea had struck him and Fëanaro looked to his family. "Is there anything happening today? Anything important that cannot wait?"

Everyone thought for a moment, running through their planned schedules for the day.

"Well," Tyelko said, prolonging the word in a thoughtful tone, "We still have to finish setting up for the Feast, but we have tonight and all of tomorrow to do so. Other than that, I don't have anything else to do."

His brothers murmured in agreement. Nerdanel shook her head, a little disappointed.

"Not that I can think of, though, I have a project that I must complete before the Feast." She apologetically looked to Fëanaro, a little worried that he may be upset over this. Ever since Makalaurë's disappearance, Fëanaro had been more on edge and quick to anger. It had made Nerdanel cautious and wary of her words, but since their little Songbird's return, Fëanaro had calmed immensely. His spirit seemed more at rest.

"That is fine." Fëanaro told her. "I believe the boys and I will go for a swim."

"Truly?!" Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo gaped at their Father, and even Nelyo was surprised. "To the waterfall?"

"Aye, to the waterfall." Fëanaro answered.

"Can the others come?" Nelyo asked. He didn't need to specify who the 'others' were but Fëanaro merely shrugged.

"Do as you please."

"Ambarto and Pityo are going to be thrilled to death of this." Tyelko remarked.

"Of what?" A sleepy, barely awake, mumble could be heard coming from Makalaurë as the minstrel slowly started to stir. "Sumthn' 'appen?" The minstrel tiredly raised a hand to cover his mouth as he yawned and cracked his eyes open, blue eyes regarding his brothers and mother in question. Using a fist to rub his left eye, Makalaurë grabbed his blanket with his left hand and pulled it up over his shoulders, burrowing deeper into it, relishing in the warmth it provided him. "D'I miss sumthn?"

His hair was mussed up, Makalaurë discovered and his brothers were flashing him looks of amusement that told him that he looked like he'd just been woken up and hadn't cleaned up his appearance. Snuggling closer to his pillow, Makalaurë was confused when he realized that he wasn't in his room. No...He was in the Family Room.

How did that happen?

Slowly, memories of the night before slipped into his mind and Makalaurë remembered everything that had transpired. His nightmares of the First Kinslaying had sent him running from his room to his Father...

Nelyo and the others watched as Makalaurë's eyes widened in disbelief as he studied the 'blanket' that was supposed to have been his. It wasn't a blanket, he found, but a cape. A very familiar cape.

Raising his head, Makalaurë's eyes drifted upwards to find Fëanaro neutrally watching him. His eyes were blank, not allowing him to see what thoughts were running through his Father's mind.

"Atar?" Makalaurë blinked.

Fëanaro raised an eyebrow and replied, "Iónya." Deep inside, Fëanaro was afraid of what his son's reaction would be. Would things return back to the way it was? Would Makalaurë shy away from him again?

His fears were set at ease when Makalaurë dropped his head back against his shoulder and nestled into a more comfortable position. "Mornin..."

"Good morning?" Fëanaro returned, amused.

"Hey, Makalaurë, Atto is going to take us to the waterfall today!" Curvo told his brother, earning a tired hum in reply. "So...You need to get ready so we can leave!" He urged, but Makalaurë refused to move.

The minstrel, instead, yawned again and shook his head. "No."

"What?"

"Not movin..."

"Why?"

"Tired."

"It's past breakfast time."

"Mhm..."

Curvo rolled his eyes at the stubborn minstrel. "Honestly, Makalaurë?"

"Yes."

"What a shame." Nerdanel tsked playfully. "I suppose that means that I can take Makalaurë's honeycakes all for myself."

"Honeycakes?" Makalaurë was suddenly wide awake and sitting up. "There're honeycakes?" He demanded to know, losing all trace of sleep as he narrowed his gaze on his Mother, hoping she wasn't playing with him.

"Oh yes." Tyelko nodded. "And they were delicious. I had three of them!"

"As did I." Moryo agreed.

"And don't forget me!" Curvo chimed in.

"I had four." Nelyo proudly stated and the four shared smothered grins when Makalaurë gave them a suspicious glance.

"You did leave a few, right?"

Nelyo made a show of making a face that told Makalaurë that they may have eaten all of the cakes and conveniently forgotten that they had another brother. "Not certain..." His elder brother shrugged, tapping his chin as he pretended to ponder for a moment. "I mean, if you take into account that Nolofinwë, Andatar, and the others were with us... That's eleven of us...I don't think those honeycakes stood a chance."

"There had better be honeycakes left!" Makalaurë warned them, rising from the couch and heading for the door. He paused long enough to ask his mother, "You were serious about the honeycakes, correct?" He certainly hoped she was because he hadn't had any honeycakes for many centuries!

Nerdanel laughed and nodded. "Of course, now shoo! Go and eat before you leave!" She brightly told him, waving Makalaurë away. He didn't have to be told twice before he swept out of the room, heading for the kitchens in order to grab a few honeycakes. Once he'd left, Nerdanel faced her husband and reminded him, "Be sure to bring some snacks with you. If I know our boys...They'll be hungry after the swim."

Fëanaro absentmindedly nodded in response, hardly paying any attention to her words. "Of course."

"Now, you boys had better get ready." Nerdanel said to her other sons, placing her hands against her hips. "And do watch over the little ones!"

"We will, Ammë, don't worry." Nelyo called over his shoulder as he and his brothers filed out of the room, heading for their chambers to grab whatever they would need. "I'll go and tell Nolofinwë where we are going and see if anyone else wants to join. You go on ahead and collect some towels." He said to his brothers.

"Alright. Just hurry on back!" Tyelko told him and they went their separate ways.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Not a couple hours had passed when Maglor was tackled by his brothers and dragged out to meet everyone who was heading for the waterfall. Ambarto and Pityo had excitedly clung to his legs and chattered nonstop about how they were going to impress Maglor with their swimming skills. Maglor had smiled as the twins went on about how Nelyo and Tyelko had been teaching them how to swim while Curvo taught them how to make simple jewelry and Tyelko had started teaching them how to read the alphabet. They proudly sang the Quenya alphabet to Maglor, to which he applauded them and congratulated them in learning such a _difficult_ thing. The twins had grinned and laughed, prancing about wildly as they raced back and forth within the group, hoping to reach the waterfall soon. Maglor spent the time while they walked pondering over everything that had happened. He felt that he was on better terms with his Father and that he didn't have too much of an issue with that, but he still needed to figure out if Irissë was one of the others meant to help him.

"Makalaurë!"

Speak of the Dark Lord! And there came Irissë, trotting up beside him, nervously twisting her hands behind her back as she chewed on her lower lip.

"Yes, Irissë?" Maglor asked her, and waited patiently as Irissë debated what she wanted to say.

"Well..." She hastily looked around to see if there was anyone nearby who could overhear them. There was no one who looked to be paying attention and Irissë relaxed somewhat. "Remember yesterday, when you thanked me for helping you?"

Interesting that Irissë was the one breaching upon this subject. Maglor had suspected that she would've wanted to avoid him, and yet, here she was, talking to him about it.

"Yes? Is there something you wish to say?"

Irissë pursed her lips together, glancing around them again then sighed heavily. Suddenly, Irissë looked far older than she truly was. Her shoulders slumped as she heaved a sigh and her twinkling eyes lost their sparkling glimmer.

"I...I don't know if I can say this..." She murmured. "You wondered how I knew Sindarin...I suspect Turukano told you that I must've picked it up during our travels?"

"He did suggest that you might have learned a phrase or two from the Sindarin cities you've visited."

"Aye, I thought so." Irissë raised her head to study the grey sky, weakly smiling. "That's not true, and I think you might be the only one who will understand."

"What do you mean?" Maglor inquired, tilting his head in suspicion. Was she about to confirm what he'd been thinking for the past day?

Another worried glance about the group.

Irissë, after ensuring no one was watching them or could hear the words they were exchanging, breathed out one word. But it wasn't a word. It was a name that held a lot of meaning to them both.

"Aredhel."

* * *

Maglor nearly froze in his tracks and barely reigned in his surprise. Quickly, he looked down at his cousin to find her watching him intensely. Judging by his reaction, Irissë guessed he knew exactly what she was talking about and somberly nodded.

"Aredhel." Maglor repeated, shaking his head slowly.

"So...You are Maglor." Irissë, now Aredhel, stated rather than questioned. Maglor managed a nod. She grinned weakly. "I thought you were acting pretty strange for Makalaurë. From what I've overheard and seen, you weren't acting like yourself."

"No. And for reasons you must know."

"I do." Aredhel affirmed. Sadness overcame her youthful features as Aredhel lowly whispered, "I'm sorry, Maglor."

Confusion washed over Maglor as he turned to her, "Whatever for?"

"For everything that happened."

"What?" Baffled and utterly shocked that Aredhel was apologizing for things that weren't her fault, Maglor sharply said, "Don't apologize for something you had no control over, Aredhel. It was not your fault. Why you are apologizing to _me_ when it is _I_ who should be apologizing to _you_ is beyond me."

"Because you wouldn't understand." Aredhel softly told him, casting him a pained glance. "You don't see."

"I don't see what?" Maglor wanted to know, hoping she would help him to understand why Aredhel was apologizing for such horrendous things.

"You suffered the most out of us all, Maglor." Aredhel explained, tearing her gaze away from him and switching it to the ground. "You were forced to do something you never wanted- never could have dreamed of doing."

"I wasn't forced, Aredhel."

"But you were, weren't you?" Aredhel said, clasping her hands together in front of her as she continued, "You felt that because your brothers were swearing the Oath your Father wasted his dying breath in saying that you had to. You loved your brothers and Father too much to let them go through everything alone. You swore the Oath out of loyalty, and it destroyed you."

Maglor's eyes drifted shut. She was right. Aredhel was more than right. "More than you could ever imagine."

"I know..." Aredhel painfully whispered. "I saw what it did to you...What it did to everyone. The Oath slowly took them all away. Daeradar's death. The Kinslayings..." She flinched at the memory. "The Teleri ships. The Helcaraxë. Your Father's death, my father's death...Arakano's death." Valiantly, Aredhel withheld the tears gathering in her eyes. "We lost so many...And then, of course, I died. Maeglin...He...He destroyed...betrayed..." She couldn't bring herself to finish, pain erupting within her heart when she remembered what her son had done. Maglor immediately gripped her shoulder.

"Do not blame yourself, Aredhel. Don't you dare blame yourself. If anything, blame my Father. Blame the Oath. By the Valar, you could blame me if you so choose."

"I could never blame you!" Aredhel near-exclaimed, horrified Maglor would've suggested such a thing. "You still don't understand, do you? I don't hate you. I never could. Fingon and Turgon were also slain...but they never hated you. My Father never hated you or Fëanaro. He was angry, and rightfully so, but he could never bring himself to hate anyone. Other than Morgoth. But, Maglor, you went through more than we ever did." She said to him. "You watched everything tumble down around you, watched as we all died, watched as the Silmarils took away everything you loved and cared for; and yet, you never gave in. You kept going. Even when the Silmarils finally claimed Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin. Then Amrod and Amras were taken away from you, but you stayed. You rescued Elrond and Elros, raised them as your own then let them go when you heard the Oath calling. I know how hard it was for you to let them go. I watched as you struggled to hold yourself back from running after them. You loved them too much to see them hurt because of the Oath. And then..."

"Maedhros left." Maglor brokenly whispered.

Aredhel said nothing.

"He was so overwrought by grief and pain...the agony he bore during those dark days...He finally snapped. I'd been waiting for him to but...I never expected for him to cast himself into the fiery chasm. By the time I realized what he was going to do, it was too late." Maglor's voice had gotten so soft that Aredhel had some difficult understanding what he was saying, but she knew from the look in his eyes what it was he had said.

"And yet, you still remained." Aredhel murmured in a tone akin to awe and admiration. "Despite all of the pain, you stayed. There were so many times you almost gave into grief, but you refused to let yourself go." Now, Aredhel looked to her cousin in confusion. "Why?"

"As punishment."

"Four thousand years...Four thousand years you wandered the shores of Middle-Earth, only leaving to visit Elrond."

"Yes."

"But...We can change it." Aredhel stated. "We can prevent it from ever happening. It's why we're here."

Maglor, thankful for the lightening of the dark and tense atmosphere that had fallen over them during the conversation, agreed. "That we can. We only need to discover how and who else is meant to help us."

"I think I might know, but I'm not certain." Aredhel admitted, eyeing someone walking ahead of them. Maglor tried to see who exactly she was watching but there were too many Elves to tell. "If I remember correctly, Din said something about two being among us, another from a land far away, and a fourth who lingers in the shadows."

"Two among us? Suppose she meant the two of us."

"No." Aredhel answered, shaking her head. "It was just the other day she told me this, after I started suspecting you."

"One from a land far away and one who lingers in the shadows..." Maglor bit the inside of his cheek as he thought over these words. "Land far away...A land far away from our homes? Or a land far away from Valinor?"

"Suppose it is someone from Arda." Aredhel suggested, but Maglor shook his head.

"I don't think so. Whoever we are searching for must have played some part in our past. We never went to Arda until...Oh! Aredhel, would you happen to know what year it is?"

"Um...Not really. I never did ask or try to find out." Aredhel sheepishly told Maglor.

"Well...That makes it a bit difficult. If we don't know what year it is, how do we know how much time we have until the Silmarils are made?"

"I think we should just plan ahead, let things go the way they should, and intervene when Fëanaro announces his plan to capture the light of the Trees. That-a-way, we'll be ready whenever the time comes and we won't be so hasty in trying to prevent everything from happening. One step at a time."

"I concur." Maglor agreed. "If we know what we are to do before the Silmarils are made, we won't be blinded by fear, panic, or anguish in trying to vanquish them."

"But before we can do that, we must know who the others are. We need to find four others. Two who are and two who are not among us." Aredhel said.

"Easier said than done." Maglor remarked, looking up to see that he and Aredhel had fallen a long ways behind everyone else.

"I know. I mean, I guess we could put our heads together and conjure up some ideas of our own before then. Once we have everyone, we can conceptualize the best plan of action and fortify it."

"That is probably the best thing we can do for now."

They walked in in silence, straying further behind their family as they trailed down the path after them. Thesilencee was broken when Aredhel firefly sighed,

"I don't want to grow up."

Maglor chuckled dryly. "Neither do I. Neither do I. When did you arrive here?"

"I think...about two summers now? Aredhel answered, tapping her chin as she thought back to the day she was sent to the past. "I was supposedly travelling with Findekano and Turukano to visit Uncle Fin- I mean, Arafinwë. Never made it there. According to my brothers, I took a nasty blow to the head when I slipped off my steed and bashed my head against the ground."

Maglor winced in sympathy.

"They had to rush me back to Tirion to get my head sound treated. It was fine with me since I could conveniently have forgotten most of my memories. Memoriesi'm still getting back since Don has been restoring them so I don't have to worry about making a blunder in the near-future " Aredhel finished with a shrug. "How about you?"

"I arrived a little more than a month ago. I however, had been missing for an entire decade when Curvo, Moryo, and Tyelko found me. Then Nelyo came and..."

"And?" Aredhel pressed, interested in hearing more. Maglor could feel his cheeks warming as he recalled How he'd reacted when his brothers had found him. He'd acted like a terrified Elfling afraid of the dark.

"I ran."

"You ran?" Aredhel echoed with a hint of amusement. She raised an eyebrow at Maglor. "You mean, you ran away from them?"

"How else was I to react?" Maglor retorted.I'd been wandering for four thousand years, an abruptly given a chance to, as Don out it, 'make things right' and then, dropped somewhere in the past where I am almost immediately met by my three younger brothers who have been dead for who knows how long."

"You make a few good points." Aredhel conceded, still giggling somewhat. "I still can't get over the fact that you fainted "

Maglor didn't bother to keep himself from blushing a deep red color. "Wha-where-who told you that?!" He sputtered. "Was it Nelyo? No, Curvo, wasn't it? How much do I want to bet it was Tyelko?"

Aredhel laughed brightly at Maglor.

"It was all four of them, actually. Nelyo, Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo." She told him, and Maglor scowled. "And your Father."

"They will most certainly suffer my wrath."

"Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good! But...can I help you in avenging yourself?" Aredhel asked, eyes twinkling. "I love pranks!"

"I wasn't thinking of pranking them, however...that does sound rather appealing."

"So, that's a yes, right?"

"Why not?"

"Marvelous!" Aredhel exclaimed, clasping her hands together excitedly. She was about to say another thing when an odd sound caught their attention.

Tilting their heads, both Maglor and Aredhel listened for the sound again.

"Was that...Is an animal hurt?" Aredhel asked Maglor when a small, strangled whimper reached them. Maglor frowned deeply, his brow furrowing as he tried to identify the source of the sound.

"No...It sounds..." His eyes widened. He would recognize that sound anywhere. "Like an Elfling!" He shot off at once, racing in the direction he knew the whimper had come from.

"What?!" Aredhel chased after him, her heart pounding in worry. What was an Elfling doing alone in the wild? How had the Elfling gotten there and why were they there?

Maglor's feet barely grazed the ground as he tracked down where the Elfling was, listening to the small, pained grunts and yelps with growing concern. Was the Elfling hurt? He slowed when he knew he was growing closer to the Elfling's location then stopped when a voice drifted his way.

"Have...to...move on!...Move!"

It was the voice of an Elfling, small and sweet and innocent. The tiny voice was filled with urgency, confusion, and frustration and Maglor caught the sounds of the Elfling struggling to move himself.

"Move...where? I dunno...Somewhere...Anywhere...Away from here..."

Maglor felt his heart forget to beat when the voice became stronger the closer the Elfling came to him. He knew that voice!

"Can't..." The Elfling grunted as he fell to the ground once again. "Can't move...Must rest...Head...spinning."

Maglor couldn't take it anymore. He emerged from the shadows where he'd hidden to see if it was who he knew it to be.

His eyes fell onto the tiny Elfling once he stepped out into the light, taking in the long, chocolaty brown hair that fell about his youthful face, the familiar maroon tunic, the deep grey eyes swimming with distortion, and the human-like features he had. The Elfling was lying on his stomach, one arm stretched above his head and the other clutching his tunic as if he were in pain.

The Elfling couldn't be older than six or seven summers old and was small in stature. He had a clasp holding together two braids that fell as one at the back of his head that Maglor recognized instantly and the minstrel knew that it had to be him.

"Elrond?"

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

 **And there you guys have it! Another chapter done and uploaded! I hope it was okay. I promise the next one should be up soon! Hopefully. School's almost out, thanks goodness. Just two more days and I'm free! Anyway, enjoy the rest of your week, my fellow readers!**  
 **Again, thank-you for the reviews and PMs! They've kept me motivated :D**

 **One of Aredhel's brothers accidentally lets slip something he meant to keep secret, Maglor finds two of the 'others,' and the Feast Commences! Only, neither of them can bring themselves to celebrate after one, dreadful announcement.**

 **~Juliette Morbu.**


	6. Dreaded Announcement and the New Arrival

**_I'm back! And as promised, with another chapter!_**

 ** _Brief Summary-_** **One of Aredhel's brothers accidentally lets slip something he meant to keep secret, Maglor finds two of the 'others,' and the Feast Commences! Only, neither of them can bring themselves to celebrate after one, dreadful, announcement.**

* * *

 _ **~Earlier in Chpt. 4~**_

" _Glorfindel_!"

"Erestor?" Glorfindel jerked his head down towards Erestor, wondering what was wrong with his friend.

"Impossible!" Glorfindel heard Thranduil say and followed both their gazes to see what had caught their eyes. Once his gaze landed on the person standing in the doorway, Glorfindel felt his body freeze in disbelief.

The Ellon in the doorway tilted his head at the Elves in front of him, wondering what was wrong with them. They looked as if they'd seen a ghost!

"What manner of sorcery?!" Glorfindel gaped, not believing his own eyes.

"My friends," The newcomer slowly began, a little concerned. "Is everything well?"

"I do not know," Thranduil answered, narrowing his eyes dangerously. His demeanor instantly changed from his normal, aloofness into a shrewd, calculating one. "Why do you not tell me?"

* * *

The newcomer remained standing in the center of the room, eyeing everyone in bewilderment. Why were they staring at him as if he were some sort of spectral hallucination? Thranduil and Glorfindel looked about ready to attack him while Erestor protectively stood before Elrond's prone body. His eyes widened in horror. What was wrong with Elrond?

He made to move forward when Thranduil threateningly stepped towards him, his hand slowly moving towards the knife he always had hidden within his elegant, silver, robe. He paused mid-stride, questioningly raising his hands in the air. "What is wrong with the lot of you? You treat me as if I were some villain- which I can assure you that I am most certainly _not._ I came to check on you after you missed the Council meeting."

"Council meeting?" Erestor dubiously repeated, dangerously watching the Elf with sharp, violet orbs. "There was no Council meeting scheduled for today. I would have been aware if there was seeing as _I_ am in charge of arranging those meetings."

Now the Elf was even more lost.

"There was most certainly a Council meeting. Surely you haven't forgotten about the upcoming battle?" He phrased it more as a question since he had a feeling that something strange was at work.

The three Elf Lords glanced at one another. "Battle? What battle?"

"What battle?!" The Elf repeated, flabbergasted.

"Has Imladris been attacked?" Thranduil murmured but Glorfindel shook his head.

"Nay. There has not been one attack nor have we had any trouble while out on Patrol. I would have heard if it were otherwise, seeing as I am Captain of the Guard."

What were they rambling on about?

"My friends!" The Elf exclaimed, a little shocked now. "Have you lost your minds?! I should call for the King! You seem to have taken ill. That or the lot of you have drunk too much wine!"

Thranduil snapped his icy gaze onto the Elf.

"The King?" Glorfindel scoffed, giving the Elf a raised eyebrow, jerking a thumb in Thranduil's direction. "Are you blind? The King is right there."

"If I remember correctly, my Father was slain in battle long ago and I was made the new King of Greenwood." Thranduil stated. "Unless you speak of Elrond, who prefers to be known as the Lord of Imladris, not a King."

"By the Valar...This would be the time Elrond chooses to fall ill or something! Speaking of Elrond, what is wrong with my Herald?!"

"Better question, what is wrong with you?" Glorfindel shot back, straightening to his full height. Suddenly, the Golden Being was more intimidating and the room seemed to have dimmed slightly as the Balrog Slayer regarded the newcomer. Power and authority radiated from his being as he placed himself before Erestor and Thranduil in order to study the new Elf that had entered the study.

"I cannot believe this...I-I must call for the others and healers. Yes. Healers." And with that, the Elf was gone, having turned suddenly and vanishing through the doorway.

"Wait, what?" Erestor blinked, casting a confused look to Glorfindel. "I must admit...I am lost."

"As am I." Thranduil uttered.

"And I." Glorfindel agreed, glancing down at Elrond's still form. "I sense that...Whatever it was that was supposed to be changed has already started to influence our time. That Ellon..."

Erestor looked alarmed. "That isn't good, Glor! If these changes continue to happen, we could be living in multiple different futures with every single thing they change!"

"That is true." Thranduil gravely nodded. "We will have to learn to quickly adapt to these changes and pretend that we understand everything that is happening. We must keep our eyes open and our ears sharp. It is prudent that we learn everything as soon as they happen."

"Easier said than done, but it can be done." Glorfindel curtly dipped his chin in agreement with Thranduil. "I will listen for more detail on the upcoming battle and the changes along the borders of Imladris and within."

"I will listen for what is happening beyond the borders of Imladris and Greenwood." Thranduil said.

"Erestor can keep an eye on Elrond and see what is happening within the household. Without Elrond, he will have to lead in his stead."

Erestor remained silent during their exchange, listening as Glorfindel and Thranduil immediately started to plan out everything. Worriedly, he watched Elrond, wishing the Peredhel would wake and assure them that everything was fine. That, or that he would wake in his own room or study and find that this was some bizarre dream he was having.

"Am I truly the only one who is worried over this?"

* * *

 _ **~Meanwhile, with Maglor~**_

"Move...where? I dunno...Somewhere...Anywhere...Away from here..."

Maglor felt his heart forget to beat when the voice became stronger the closer the Elfling came to him. He knew that voice!

"Can't..." The Elfling grunted as he fell to the ground once again. "Can't move...Must rest...Head...spinning."

Maglor couldn't take it anymore. He emerged from the shadows where he'd hidden to see if it was who he knew it to be.

His eyes fell onto the tiny Elfling once he stepped out into the light, taking in the long, chocolaty brown hair that fell about his youthful face, the familiar maroon tunic, the deep grey eyes swimming with distortion, and the human-like features he had. The Elfling was lying on his stomach, one arm stretched above his head and the other clutching his tunic as if he were in pain.

The Elfling couldn't be older than six or seven summers old and was small in stature. He had a clasp holding together two braids that fell as one at the back of his head Maglor knew he recognized, and the minstrel was certain that it had to be him. Who else could it be?

"Elrond?"

The Elfling started at his name, weakly opening his eyes to see who had called out to him. Deep grey orbs opened and instantly fell upon Maglor's form swiftly approaching him.

"Atto?" He coughed out, confused and evidently distorted.

Maglor was at his side in the blink of an eye, kneeling down beside the small form and carefully turning him onto his back. Elrond hissed at the movement, shutting his eyes tightly as his nausea grew. Maglor quickly scanned over him for any wounds. He could find none. At least, none that were visible to the eye. "What ails you, little one?" He asked, delicately raising the tiny body up into his arms, cradling him gently.

"Don't know..." Elrond answered. "Not little." He added with a weak glare.

Maglor smothered the smirk that threatened to rise.

"Maglor!"

Hearing Aredhel's call, Maglor turned in time to see the Elleth appear out of the shadows of the forest and into the tiny clearing. Her eyes swiveled over to the Elfling Maglor held, noting how utterly exhausted he appeared, and widened in concern.

"Is he alright? Is he hurt?" She demanded to know, stalking forward to check on the Elfling. Elrond, hearing the unfamiliar voice, cracked open his grey orbs and studied the stranger. She had long, black hair, kind but determined blue eyes, and wore a faded grey tunic with a skirt that fell just above her knees. She also had a red, long-sleeved, undershirt and leggings matched with brown boots. Elrond would've raised an eyebrow at her appearance but he'd already met several Elleths in Himring who had dressed similarly. It was actually quite common, and it intrigued him greatly.

"He is fine, Aredhel." Maglor assured his younger cousin.

This time, Elrond did raise an eyebrow, weakly demanding for Maglor to explain himself. "Atto? What...What's happening?"

"I would've though you'd know, Elrond, seeing as you were the one who'd had the vision of me saving the world and everything." Maglor teased then shrugged. "But, I don't really know any more than that. I know we're meant to keep the Silmarils from coming to pass and keeping our history, our past, from happening again and that we were to receive help-" Maglor cut off when a thought suddenly struck him. Realization dawned over the minstrel and he glanced down at Elrond with a growing smile. "You're the one! The one from a far away land!"

Aredhel snapped her fingers. "It has to be him! He came all the way here from Middle-Earth! And I can see why they would've chosen him to help! Only...why is he an Elfling?"

"Milady?" Elrond uttered in confusion. He was lost. What were they going on about? What vision? What was this about him being from a faraway land? And of course he was an Elfling! What else could he be?

Oh well. He wasn't complaining. He was tired.

Exhausted.

And, he was relieved to have his Atto back. He hadn't meant to wander too far away from the fields, but he had. Then he fell into the ravine, and, well, he certainly learned his lesson about wandering off.

"Just Aredhel's fine, Elrond!" Aredhel corrected, smiling down at him. "It is wonderful to finally meet you!" She added.

Elrond stared at the excited Elleth. Who was she? He knew he knew her from somewhere...But where? Was she the same Aredhel that was taken by Ëol? But...hadn't she died? That's what Erestor had taught him, and Erestor was never wrong.

"Atto...Are we in Himring?"

Maglor blinked at the odd question. "No...We are far away from Himring, Elrond. We're near Tirion."

"But..." Elrond's brow furrowed in confusion. "Tirion's in Valinor." He knew that because Erestor had ordered for him to memorize the geography of both Middle-Earth and Valinor.

"Yes." Concerned, Maglor rested the back of his hand against Elrond's forehead. No fever... "Elrond, what is the last thing you remember?"

Elrond's brows beetled together as he struggled to remember what he did remember. "El and I were playing... Maedhros was watching us. You said you needed to go visit someone..."

Maglor felt his heart slowly sinking as Elrond continued his tale and he bit his lip.

"Maedhros said not to wander too far... I did." Elrond shyly raised his head to see if Maglor was upset with him at this, but seeing that Maglor didn't appear to be, he dutifully continued. "I faught I heard somefin' so I went to see and I fell into the river."

"Eru..." Maglor murmured and Aredhel turned to look up at him.

"What is it, Maglor? What's wrong?"

Maglor looked down at Aredhel, worried and a little uncertain. "It appears that Elrond is trapped in his six year old self with no memories other than those from when he was an Elfling."

"What? Oh dear..." Aredhel worried her lower lip as she studied the little, shivering, Elfling Maglor held. "You poor thing." She quickly dug into her small bag and pulled out the towel that she had brought along on the trip. Placing it on Elrond, Aredhel gently tucked it comfortably around him, and Elrond gratefully snuggled into the fluffy cocoon she'd made. Resting his head on his Atto's shoulder, Elrond quietly thanked the Elleth. "Anytime, little one."

Elrond didn't seem to hear her, his eyes drifting shut as he gave into his body's need for rest. Once he was asleep, Maglor shook his head in worry. "I don't understand. Why did they send Elrond from when he was six? He is young, too young. What if something goes wrong and he is involved in it? What if the Silmarils are created? What will happen to him? If Morgoth attacks-"

"Maglor! Calm down!" Aredhel tugged on Maglor's arm to get his attention. "Elrond may be an Elfling, but he's intelligent and quick to learn. He'll be fine, especially if you're around. Don't forget that you have me and there are still three others we need to find. Elrond will be safe. We wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"Still...I don't understand why they sent him."

Aredhel couldn't answer that. "Who knows, but the Valar must've had a reason, so we shouldn't question it. There's only one problem I'm worried about."

"What is that?" Maglor asked, taking his eyes off of Elrond's sleeping form. The Elfling looked so exhausted...so tired.

"How do we hide him?"

"What?"

"Well, we can't have him running around calling you 'Atto' and you calling him 'Ionya' for all to hear. Imagine what would happen if someone were to hear that." Aredhel pointed out.

Maglor slowly nodded. "You're right. That would be troublesome. So...We need to figure something out..."

"Yes. We do."

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

"Moro! Come!" Ambarto and Pityo chimed, giggling madly as they splashed around in the shallow end of the pool. Moryo's upper lip twitched, the beginnings of a scowl forming as he shook his head.

"You go and play, Ambarto, Pityo. I will remain here." He told his younger brothers, crossing his arms as he leaned against the nearest tree. Funnily enough, it was the same tree Makalaurë had pinned him against when they had first found him.

Ambarto and Pityo pouted, visibly upset that their elder brother wasn't going to join them. Then, their expressions became darker and more mischievous as the two shared the 'look.' Moryo knew that 'look.' He recognized the mischievous gleam in their eyes and knew he should probably move himself to a safer place. Preferably, in the highest tree he could find far, far, away.

"Moro, if you no come, we come!" The twins declared in unison, both waddling to shore. Moryo smirked at the two and slowly started to edge away while watching as the rest of his family played in the pool. Fëanaro was nearest the twins, watching proudly as they swam to shore. Turukano, having been challenged by his brother, was now racing against Findekano to see who was the faster swimmer. Nolofinwë watched them in amusement, glad to see his sons enjoying themselves and Curvo was with Tyelko, searching the pool for any interesting rocks or other hidden treasures the sands bore. Finwë was relaxing on the colorful sands lining the small pool. However, Moryo noticed that there was one missing. Actually, three who were missing.

Nelyo for one. Makalaurë and Irissë were also gone. Now, he was certain he'd caught a glimpse of those two following after the family, deep in conversation. A serious one, he figured, from what he'd seen. He wondered what it could've possibly been about.

"Moro! We coming!" The twins cry caused Moryo to look their way to find the small Elflings had finally climbed out of the pool and were running his way, smiling wickedly as they waved their arms in the air.

"Oh dear..." Moryo sighed, shaking his head at the twins. Why they continued to torment him, he didn't know. Ambarto and Pityo then skidded to a stop, their eyes widening when they looked over Moryo's shoulder.

"Uh-oh!" Ambarto exclaimed, and Pityo gasped.

"Moro in twouble!" They squealed.

Moryo was about to ask what they meant when he was suddenly lifted up into the air and thrown over a strong shoulder.

"And up he goes!" Nelyo's voice sounded, trembling with laughter when Moryo gave an indignant shout, drawing everyone's attention, and started to struggle to escape. "And down to the waters _we_ go!"

Moryo's eyes widened. "No! Nelyo, put me down! I don't want to get wet!"

"Go, Nelyo!" The twins cheered, running around Nelyo in circles.

"Nelyo! For the love of the Valar, if you don't set me down this moment-!"

"What, Moryo? What are you going to do? Do tell! I am curious to know!" Nelyo laughed, effectively stilling his brother's wild movements at Moryo attempted to escape again.

Moryo kicked his brother's chest and clutched his shoulders, refusing to allow Nelyo to drop him into the pool. "I will make you regret throwing me into the pool if you do!" he had a good grip on his brother, so Nelyo would be unable to drop him anyway. So far, he was safe.

Nelyo waded deeper into the pool, the waters now rising to his knees. Ambarto and Pityo swam around him, their tiny heads raised to watch them as they laughed and giggled.

"Atto!" Moryo called to his Father, who was watching them from a few feet away. "Tell Nelyo to put me down!"

Fëanaro's eyes twinkled as he raised both his eyebrows.

"D'you hear that, Nelyo?" He slowly asked his eldest son. Nelyo quickly caught on to what his Father meant and a mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

"Why, yes, Atto, I did."

"Then, why don't you do as Moryo asked and put him down?"

Moryo, who was confused at first, slowly understood what the two had planned and immediately tried to wriggle out of Nelyo's grasp. "No! No, Nelyo don't!"

Too late.

"Sorry, Toron." Nelyo happily said and dunked the elf into the pool.

Well, he tried to anyway, but Moryo had managed to take hold of Nelyo in a way that made it difficult for the red-head to remove him.

"Honestly, Toron? Do you think that will save you?"

"You can't dunk me now, can you?" Moryo shot back, feeling victorious. He raised his feet up a little higher, trying not to touch the water, scowling when Curvo snickered at him.

"Water's not poisonous, Moryo. I don't know what you're afraid of."

"I'm not afraid!" Moryo snapped, tightening his grip on Nelyo. "Can't dunk me now, Nelyo!"

"Think again!" Nelyo laughed and fell forwards, taking Moryo down with him.

Ambarto and Pityo cheered, clapping their small hands together as they laughed. Fëanaro smiled down at them, scooping up the little twins and listening to their squeals of delight as he threw them high into the air, throwing them further into the pool.

Nelyo was the first to reemerge, shaking his head wildly.

"I must say, Nelyo," Tyelko spoke up from where he was floating on his back. "That was rather cruel of you. Moryo will most certainly make you pay for it."

"Ah, well, it was worth it." Nelyo responded, a hint of laughter dancing in his eyes as he looked for Moryo. He frowned when he discovered that his brother was nowhere to be seen. "Speaking of Moryo..."

Curvo, hearing him, also started to search for their brother who had yet to appear.

"Moryo?"

Fëanaro turned round when Nelyo and Curvo began to search for their brother, growing concerned when Moryo never emerged from below the waters. Wading closer, Fëanaro scanned the pool for any sign of his son.

"Moryo?"

"Moryo!" Nelyo called, a little more loudly and urgently as he spun around in search of him.

Nolofinwë and Finwë slowly stood from where they were seated, raking their eyes across the pool to see if they could find the missing Ellon.

"Where is he?" Curvo wondered aloud, dragging his feet across the sandy floor of the pool. "It's like...he vanished in thin air!"

"Mor- AI!" Nelyo suddenly cried out as he was tackled from behind and sent flailing into the pool.

"Ha! That is what you get, petulant brother-mine!" Moryo declared, materializing behind Fëanaro and Curvo. The two whirled around to look at him in relief and Nelyo scowled.

"Moryo! That was not at all amusing!"

"Then you know how I must feel." Moryo sniffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Nelyo sighed and rolled his eyes, standing up and shaking his head once again to get rid of some of the water clinging to his hair.

"Honestly, Toron."

Moryo shrugged, then asked his family,

"Hey, have any of you seen Makalaurë?"

"Makalaurë?" Fëanaro repeated, glancing around to find that Makalaurë wasn't among them.

"How odd," Nelyo commented, wondering how he'd missed the fact that Makalaurë hadn't come to the pool with them. "I was certain he was with us..."

"Speaking of Makalaurë, where is Irissë?" Findekano added, discovering that his little sister was also gone. Nolofinwë started, turning to look at the woods behind them.

"She was with Makalaurë." Finwë told them, raising a hand in the direction of the path in the woods. "But...Apparently, they have yet to arrive."'

"We've been here for ages now, though." Tyelko remarked.

"I will go look for them." Turukano offered, and before anyone could object, gracefully waded to the shore of the pool and crossed the sands to reach the path. He was gone before Nolofinwë could call him back.

Finwë narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Something was amiss. Something just struck the Lord as odd.

He could feel it in the air.

It made him wonder about his family. Mostly, he was concerned about Makalaurë. He could tell his grandson was suffering greatly. Makalaurë hid it wonderfully, but if there was one thing everyone had noticed, it was the fact that the minstrel had changed. He wasn't the same Makalaurë they once knew, and Finwë feared to learn the reason behind Makalaurë's transformation. Another was Irissë.

Finwë had sensed that something wasn't right with his Granddaughter. Irissë was once a bundle of energy, always zipping here and there, doing this and that, and causing Nolofinwë to go mad with worry. Her eyes, just like Makalaurë's, were always expressive. Both once shared the same, carefree twinkle and kindness that swirled in those pools of blue, but now, their eyes had dimmed and become more guarded. The blue had deepened in color, speaking of pain and grief. Makalaurë's especially. Irissë no longer smiled as much as before and she was more...collected and calm that it unnerved Finwë. Nolofinwë had also noticed and had approached his Father about it. It had happened after Irissë's incident nearly two years passed.

There were a couple of his other grandchildren that Finwë sensed had also undergone some sort of change, but Makalaurë and Irissë were more prominent to him. The one thing he had recognized in all four of his grandchildren was the fear they kept hidden behind their facades.

A fear of something unknown to Finwë. Something big.

And he couldn't help but feel fearful himself.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Turukano walked down the path leading to Fëanaro's home. His mind was whirling with many thoughts as he considered his cousin and little sister. After yesterday, he was beginning to think that Irissë and Makalaurë were hiding a tremendous secret from their family. His little sister had give that away to Turukano after she'd struck her head. She always had that look in her eyes. The one that said that she knew more than she was willing to tell. Anytime something happened, Irissë was indifferent- as if she'd been expecting for it to happen.

It made him wonder...

Turukano hummed thoughtfully to himself as a thought came into mind. A thought he needed to discover was true or false.

Voices alerted Turukano to the fact that he was drawing near to Makalaurë and Irissë's location. Taking a sharp turn in the direction he knew they were in, Turukano stepped off of the path and entered the darkness of the forest. Walking with ease over the maze of roots and low branches, Turukano stepped out into a clearing to find the two he'd been searching for.

"Makalaurë, Irissë."

Startled, Irissë and Makalaurë spun around to face him.

"Oh, Turukano!" Irissë greeted him, surprised. She wrung her fingers together, a sign that told Turukano that something was definitely up. His sister still had yet to realize that she always gave away whenever she was hiding or feeling nervous about something. It was a habit she had yet to break.

"What are you two doing?" Turukano questioned, but stopped whenever he spotted the Elfling Maglor held close to him. He looked to his cousin and sister, silently asking for them to explain everything.

"We found him here, Turukano." Irissë started to explain, her eyes flickering to Makalaurë then back to him. "He...We don't know what's wrong with him, but we need to get him back to Fëanaro's home so that a Healer can take a look at him."

Turukano slowly nodded, suspiciously regarding the two. That was not the whole truth, he knew. They were hiding something, and Turukano knew exactly what. They knew the Elfling. It was obvious from the manner in which Makalaurë protectively and fondly held the Elfling, providing him with comfort as he slept. "Then, to Fëanaro's home we must go. Perhaps Nerdanel will be able to help-" He was unable to finish the sentence when Makalaurë cut him off.

"No. That will not be necessary. My mother need not be bothered."

"Very well. But, we must alert the Elfling's parents or guardians."

"We will take care of that." Irissë assured him, a little too quickly.

Turukano sighed aloud, shaking his head at them. They were the worst secret keepers he'd ever met! It was clear that they were hiding something and it bothered Turukano that he could plainly read that fact from their faces.

"Irissë, Makalaurë, the two of you are fools if you believe you can lead me astray with your little charades." He bluntly told them. Irissë rapidly blinked, a little taken aback by her brother's statement. Makalaurë didn't appear to be affected. "I can tell that you know the Elfling. I can tell that you are hiding something. The entire family knows it. You haven't done well in proving otherwise."

"Oh, very well." Makalaurë breathed out, inwardly cursing himself. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt if he knew."

Irissë rounded on him. "What?! You can't-"

"I meant about the Elfling, Irissë." Makalaurë calmly said to her, and Irissë relaxed.

"If you think so...but you can't tell anyone, Turukano!" Irissë implored her brother.

"I would be most grateful if you were to keep this to yourself, as Irissë said, Turukano." Makalaurë said, smiling down at the Elfling he held. Refocusing his attention on Turukano, he said, "The Elfling's name is Elrond. He is my son."

Turukano wasn't at all surprised. "Ah."

"Ah?" Irissë echoed, shooting her brother a questioning glance. "That's all you have to say, Turu? 'Ah'?"

"You don't seem surprised." Makalaurë commented, taking in Turukano's calm outlook. Turukano shook his head, a bitter smile growing on his lips.

"Hardly anything surprises me these days, Maglor. And for good reason." He said to his cousin, running a hand through his long, black, hair as he walked closer to them. "Is he alright?"

"He is-" Makalaurë cut off abruptly, sharply jerking his head up and staring at Turukano with a sudden look of realization. "What did you call me?"

Turukano fixed him with a confused glance. "What do you mean?"

Irissë was also staring at him, slack-jawed. "Turu...you... _you?!_ "

"What did you just call me, Turukano?" Makalaurë demanded to know, stepping closer to his cousin and intensely studying him. Turukano narrowed his eyes dangerously, subconsciously straightening his shoulders and raising his head so that he towered over the minstrel. Makalaurë wasn't at all fazed, determined in discovering whether he'd heard Turukano correctly or no. "I need to know, Turukano!"

"I called you Makalaurë."

"No, you didn't." Makalaurë denied, a shadow crossing over his eyes as he held Turukano's intense gaze. "You specifically said, 'Hardly anything surprises me these days, Maglor.'" He quoted, emphasizing his name at the end and raised an eyebrow at Turukano, daring his cousin to deny it.

Catching Turukano's eyes marginally widening, Makalaurë knew that he was correct.

"You are one of the others, then." He quietly declared, taking a step back so that he wasn't invading Turukano's personal space. "Din chose to send you back, didn't she?"

Turukano was silent, but after a few moments, closed his eyes and nodded. "You are correct."

"Turgon."

Turukano snapped his eyes open at the name, impassively staring down at Maglor. His expression was blank and Makalaurë and Irissë were unable to tell what thoughts were going through his head. His eyes were also dull and empty, not giving them any inclination as to how he felt at the moment, but they could sense the emotions that came with the name.

Pain. Grief. Sorrow. Anguish.

Emotions Makalaurë and Irissë knew well.

"Maglor. Aredhel." So he had been correct in his assumption. He'd suspected it for a while, but now, it was confirmed.

"I can't believe it..." Irissë, now Aredhel, said. "I thought it might be you...but to know that it is you..."

Makalaurë, Maglor, on the other hand had averted his gaze to stare at the ground. Turukano frowned when he saw the guilt and sorrow etched into his features.

"Maglor?"

"I'm sorry, Turgon..." Maglor whispered hoarsely. "I am so sorry..."

Turgon's shoulders slumped slightly, the tall Ellon shaking his head. "I have every right to be angry with you, Maglor, but it would be wrong of me to be so. You are not at fault."

Maglor raised his eyes, his brow furrowing. "How can you say that? After everything that happened..."

"None of it was your doing, Maglor. We all know that." Turgon sternly told him. "What happened came to pass because of that mad Elf of a Father you had."

Maglor hardly reacted to the insult Turukano had directed at his Father. How could he? He knew it was true. His Father had been mad. Maglor had said so himself many times during the Kinslayings and their twelve-year exile.

"If you are blaming everything on yourself, don't. You can't do that." Reaching out, Turgon grasped his cousin's shoulder tightly. "You're not at fault." he slowly reminded Maglor, enunciating every word as if to drive his point home. His gaze never left Maglor's, and Maglor found that he couldn't look away. The sincerity flickering in Turgon's eyes told him that his cousin honestly believed in the words he was speaking, and it shocked him. He couldn't understand it. "It's no use tearing yourself apart over it. We're here to keep it all from happening, and that is the only thing I am planning on doing."

"But-" Maglor started, only to have Turgon sigh dramatically and roll his eyes.

"I've long since forgiven you, Maglor. I've had time to reflect over those years in the Halls of Mandos,"

Maglor flinched at the name.

"And I've come to accept everything."

Maglor couldn't believe it. Looking from one cousin, to the other, he shook his head in amazement. "How could you? Why?"

"Oh, Maglor! I told you this earlier!" Aredhel scolded, placing her hands against her hips. "We never hated you in the first place! It wasn't even that hard to forgive you, so quit worrying about it! We have more important things to worry about!" She reminded him.

Maglor dazedly agreed with his younger cousin, unable to believe that they could have so easily forgiven him and accepted everything. He knew he would have been unable to.

By Eru, he was struggling to forgive Fëanaro and accept the fact that everything had happened because of him.

"Now, before you start thinking too hard over this," Turgon spoke up, examining the Elfling in Maglor's arms, "I believe we should bring Elrond to the Healers and ensure that he is well."

"Oh...Erm, yes. That is a good idea." Maglor nodded, allowing Turgon and Aredhel to lead him away from the clearing and back onto the path leading to Fëanaro's home. "What about the others?"

"They will be fine."

"No, I mean, the others we're meant to find."

"Ah, yes. There are, what? Two more we need to find?"

"Yep!" Aredhel brightly said. "One among us and another who supposedly lingers in the shadows."

"Yes." Maglor thoughtfully hummed. "And I think..."

He paused mid-stride when a thought struck him.

"By the Valar..." He breathed, mentally hitting himself for being so daft! "Din was right! I was blind, but I see it now!"

"What? What is it?" Aredhel wanted to know but all Maglor did was raise his head, staring ahead, and proclaim,

"I know who the one among us is." If he hadn't been holding Elrond, Maglor would have face-palmed. How could he have missed all of the signs? All of those clues Maglor had missed that had been practically screaming out to him that that certain someone had been the other he'd needed to find. "How could I have missed that fact?"

"Who is it?" Aredhel and Turgon chimed, wondering how Maglor could've found out.

"Come with me." Was all Maglor said, briskly walking ahead with Elrond. Tonight, he would need to confront the Elf and find out if he was right in him being the one.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

"Lord Makalaurë!" The Healer who had checked on Elrond exasperatedly exclaimed, halfheartedly throwing a glare in his direction. "The Elfling is in perfect condition! He's only tired and most likely hungry. And _yes,_ he is completely _fine!"_ She tsked and shook her head. "You are quite the mother hen, milord! Coming in here and disturbing my other patients who should be resting!"

Maglor had the grace to look a _little_ abashed.

Lowering his head, Maglor humbly apologized for the trouble he'd caused the Healer, missing the amused glimmer dancing in her eyes when she met Aredhel and Turgon's entertained gazes.

"I am truly sorry, Healer Nalara."

"Oh, Lord Makalaurë!" The Healer laughed, throwing her head back and shaking it at the young Lord.

Maglor stared at her, confused.

"Was it something I said?" he asked aloud, causing the Healer to laugh even more.

"Oh, Milord, you are a treasure. I was exaggerating. I don't even have any other patients save the Elfling!" The Healer told him, and Maglor pursed his lips together, not at all amused. "Oh, don't act like that." Nalara tsked again, patting Maglor's head.

It made Maglor wonder if he truly did shrink like Turgon had said, because he specifically remembered being up to Nelyo's shoulder in height, but now, he was barely a head taller than Tyelkormo.

"So, speaking of which, the Elfling," Healer Nalara started, sparing a glance at the small form curled up on the bed, "Are his parents informed of his whereabouts?"

"Yes." Maglor nodded.

"They are? I'm surprised they haven't come to see him."

"That's because he is standing right here." Maglor cheekily told the Healer.

"Oh? Really?" Nalara asked, raising her head to see where the Elfling's parent was. Maglor enjoyed watching the moment when his words clicked in Nalara's mind, and the Healer gaped at him. "What?! _You!?_ " She incredulously sputtered. "Makalaurë!"

"What?" Maglor innocently raised his hands up in the air.

"By the Valar!" Nalara raised a hand up to cover her mouth, quelling the urge to laugh while trying to figure out if Makalaurë was being serious or not. "You're serious?!"

"As serious as I can be." Maglor nodded, smiling when Nalara laughed again.

"I can't believe this! Who's the lucky Elleth?" Nalara wanted to know, curious.

"Oh, I'm not married." Maglor honestly told Nalara, causing her eyes to widen.

" _MAKALAURË!?"_

Aredhel broke down laughing at this, clutching her sides while Turgon raised a hand to cover his eyes, his shoulders trembling with laughter.

Maglor quirked an eyebrow at them. Aredhel, who Maglor was afraid was ready to keel over at any moment, commented between gasps for breath,

"That sounded... a lot worse...than...than you meant...for it to be!"

Thinking back over what he'd just said, Maglor had to agree with Aredhel.

When Nalara managed to catch her breath, she bit her lip and gazed down at Maglor. "My, my, not so innocent as we appear, are we, Makalaurë?"

Maglor gave her an all-too-innocent smile, causing Nalara to cuff the back of his head in amusement.

"You've been corrupted, and all this time, your mother was complaining to me how you and Nelyo were responsible for corrupting Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo."

"Yes. I never understood that myself." Maglor agreed and Nalara chortled. "Why, just the other day, Nelyo and I were having a discussion about it."

"I'm starting to think she might be correct. Do they know?" The Healer inquired, tilting her head in the Elfling's direction.

"Ah, no." Maglor denied.

"Oh?" Nalara's sparkling indigo eyes glimmered with surprise. "Why ever not? I'm certain Fëanaro and Nerdanel would be thrilled to learn that they have a grandchild!"

"Oh, yes! They certainly would be!" Maglor fervently nodded his head. "I'm sure they would be terribly thrilled!"

"I'm guessing there's a reason you aren't telling them?" It wasn't a question, but Maglor answered,

"Yes. One I'm not willing to give them just yet."

Nalara flashed him an understanding look, smiling gently as she checked on the Elfling again.

"Then I shall keep this to myself."

"Thank-you, Healer Nalara."

"Anytime, little one."

Maglor sighed when he walked over to Elrond's side, running a hand through the Elfling's hair. He'd forgotten how much he'd missed Nalara whenever they traveled to Middle-Earth. Nalara was very much like an aunt to him and the rest of his brothers, always doting on them whenever they 'visited' the Healing Halls. She was close to the family and a dear friend of Nerdanel. Whenever they had left, Nalara, who hadn't had the heart to let them go alone, went with them. She was the one who fixed them up whenever they sustained any injuries and comforted them when all hope seemed to be lost. She had been the one to help Nelyo claim his Father's place after Fëanaro's death and provided them with tips and suggestions whenever they needed them. Even though she had been suffering greatly, Nalara pushed all of her worries and concerns behind in order to take care of them.

Whenever Maglor had finally settled in Maglor's Gap between the hills surrounding Maedhros's home, Himring, Nalara had come over with him. It had been an awful year for Maglor. Tensions were running high between he and Maedhros and the reason he'd left Himring was because of a fierce argument they had had. Maglor couldn't recall a time he had been so furious. He guiltily remembered that he'd actually raised his voice against his brother, accused him of being such terrible things, then sneaked off into the night without saying goodbye. For some time, Maglor and Maedhros never contacted one another and Maglor was constantly beating himself up for everything he'd done. He had known his brother wasn't to blame, that his brother was innocent of everything he had accused him of, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize to Maedhros. He was still unhappy and unsettled. But, by then, Maglor couldn't even recall what the argument had been about. He only remembered everything he'd said and he had regretted it greatly.

Then Glaurung attacked.

That day had been one of the most horrifying to Maglor. Thankfully, one of his guards had warned Maglor of Glaurung's sighting and they were able to begin evacuating the Gap. Nalara had urged Maglor to flee, but Maglor firmly stated that he was the Lord of the Gap and that it was his duty to remain until all of the inhabitants had escaped. He would remain with his warriors until then.

Nalara had then tried to persuade Maglor into sending a courier to Maedhros, telling him what was happening, but, again, Maglor refused. What difference would it have made if he told Maedhros what was going to befall his Gap? Besides, the messenger wouldn't arrive to Himring until it was too late.

Seeing that his mind was made, Nalara had decided to remain with Maglor, much to his horror. No matter what he said, he couldn't convince Nalara to leave.

By then, it was already too late.

Glaurung had arrived.

There was fire everywhere. Buildings were burned to a crisp and Elves were dying in every direction Maglor looked, and there was nothing he could do.

When Glaurung had spotted him, the dragon made to attack. Maglor barely avoided being burned to death. He was forced to run, unarmed, trying to lead the dragon away.

Then, as luck would have it, Maglor accidentally ran into another Elf and fell. The other Elf, luckily, had fallen into a hole, out of the Dragon fire, but Maglor wasn't as fortunate. He'd managed to stand, but at that moment, Glaurung had gone to kill him. He had thought he was going to die when an Elf threw themselves at him, tackling him to the ground.

Maglor had heard the scream of pain that the Dragon's fire had torn from their lips and had felt his heart shatter. Dismayed and utterly distressed, Maglor had looked to find that it had been Nalara who'd rescued him.

Glaurung had been distracted for a split second, but it was enough for Maglor to take Nalara somewhere safe.

She had been burned so badly...There was no way she would be able to survive.

He had remained there with Nalara until her dying breath, stunned and overwhelmed with guilt. For hours, Maglor stayed vigil beside Nalara's body. He never answered any of his warriors' calls, too wrapped up in disbelief and grief to notice anything happening around him.

When he finally succumbed to his exhaustion, Maglor had slumped over and fell unconscious beside her.

It was in that manner in which he was found by Maedhros, who had actually ridden all the way to his Gap the instant he'd seen the flames rising up into the air from where he'd been standing, on his balcony, in Himring.

"Makalaurë?" Nalara's soft voice penetrated into Maglor's mind, and the minstrel blinked to find the Healer concernedly looking to him, a hand resting on his shoulder. "Are you well, little one?"

"Fine." Maglor answered, fondly tugging on Elrond's braid. "When should he wake?"

"In a few minutes, most likely." Nalara said, moving away to put all of the herbs she'd taken out away into her medical cabinets. "But make sure he gets plenty of rest tonight. Where is he going to stay?"

Maglor stilled his hand, mentally berating himself for not thinking of that before. "I have no idea."

"Well, if you don't want to reveal him to your parents, _yet,"_ Nalara began, emphasizing the last word and eyeing Maglor in the you-had-better-plan-on-telling-them-at-some-point, "I can take him in for some time."

"You wouldn't mind? I don't wish to impose on you."

"Pft, no!" Nalara waved away his concerns, the brunette shutting her medical cabinet and wandering across the room to gather some more of her herbs. "Besides, I could use the company. It has been boring with so few patients dropping by every once in a while."

"I'll warn you now, he's quite a handful." Maglor said, but Nalara shook her head.

"I'm certain he's far better than you were as an Elfling."

"I was not a terrible Elfling!" Maglor immediately denied, earning a look of disbelief from Nalara.

"Really? You certainly weren't the innocent little Elfling everyone believed you to be. I know everything you managed to get away with."

"Name one." Maglor challenged, truly not believing he'd been a mischievous Elfling.

"I'll do better than that!" Nalara assured him. "I'll name three!" She said, raising three fingers at the statement. "One," She touched the tip of her ring finger, "When you were fourteen, you decided it would be a marvelous idea to switch your Mother's soap with hair dye. Nerdanel had purple hair for a good two months because of that, mind you."

"I did that?!" Maglor was shocked, but now that Nalara had reminded him, he did remember having done that as an Elfling.

"Oh, yes. And dear Nelyo took the blame because he knew no one would believe it was you."

"Hm..."

"I'm not finished. Second," Nalara lowered her ring finger and touched the tip of her middle finger, "You replaced all of the sugar in the kitchen with salt on your Father's birthday, causing the Head Cook to bake his favorite cake with a large quantity of salt. Not only that, but you also managed to put a whole bunch of pepper into his drink, so when he tried to get rid of the salty taste..." She didn't finish the sentence, knowing Maglor would understand what she would've said. "Poor Fëanaro suffered for quite some time."

"Ai...I do remember that too." Maglor admitted, grimacing a bit. He could hear Din snickering in his mind and sent what he believed to be the equivalent of a glare to her.

"I believe Nelyo also took the blame for that one."

"I think Nelyo took the blame for everything I did." Maglor muttered, and Nalara affirmed his statement.

"Dear boy, always looking out for his brothers." Nalara fondly said. "Third," She added, waving her pointer finger in Maglor's direction, "You restrung every single one of poor Dalyr's instruments so that none of them were in tune. He spent a week correcting all of them, all the while lecturing Nelyo about toying with his precious treasures."

"Oh, yes, that one," Maglor grinned in a sinister manner, "Was actually done on purpose."

"Really?" Nalara raised both her eyebrows. "Whatever did Dalyr do to you, might I ask? He was unable to perform at the Celebratory Feast because of you!"

"He wasn't ready." Maglor defended himself and Nalara crossed her arms.

"Not ready?"

"And as much as he wanted to believe it, he couldn't play the harp. Valar, he was awful." Maglor added, cringing at the memory of when he'd overheard Dalyr practicing his music on his harp. "I did everyone a favor on that day."

"My, my, Makalaurë. And you claim that you were a perfect Elfling."

' _Indeed.'_ Came Din's voice. ' _What's this about slipping some choice herbs into your Grandfather's drink?'_ She asked and an image of what she meant appeared in Maglor's mind. The minstrel grimaced and withheld the urge to sigh, though his lips twitched upwards at the memory. His Grandfather's voice had been rather high for several days and the Ellon had to cancel most of his meetings because of how many couldn't restrain their laughter and focus on the task at hand.

Even Fëanaro found it entertaining, and would bait his Father into speaking in public. Of course, Finwë did avenge himself, making Fëanaro pay. Everyone had believed it had been Fëanaro who'd done it, no matter how much Fëanaro tried to deny it, and no one discovered that Maglor was actually the culprit.

Maglor sighed nostalgically. "Those were the days..." he murmured to himself, brushing the back of his hand against Elrond's chubby cheek. "Those were the days..."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

After the visit to Nalara, Maglor had explained to Elrond, who'd finally chosen to return to the world of the living, that he was to stay with the Healer for a few weeks. Though Elrond was disappointed to be separated from him in an unfamiliar place, he obediently did as Maglor had asked and stayed with Nalara. After making Maglor promise to visit him every day, of course.

Now, Maglor was leading Turgon and Aredhel through the home to a certain Ellon's room.

"You're certain that whoever you think it is is the one?" Aredhel asked, just in case. Maglor nodded.

"I'm certain, and I have plenty of evidence to back up my claim should he deny it." He told them, turning sharply around the next corner and stalking down the hall towards the Family Corridor. He stopped in front of the door across his own, studying patterns drawn across the white, wooden, door for a brief moment. "Here." He said, pulling down on the handle and entering the room without permission.

Entering with Aredhel and Turgon watching him from the doorway, Maglor caught sight of the Ellon he was searching for seated on the bench out on his balcony, watching the incoming storm with bright eyes. The Elf had reclined far back on the bench, feeling the small droplets of rain splattering on his face as he turned his head up to stare up into the sky, excitement evident in his features.

"Moryo!" Maglor abruptly called, startling the dark elf greatly. "I need-" He winced in sympathy when Moryo slipped from his perch and fell onto the ground with a grunt.

"Makalaurë!" Moryo growled, glaring at his brother from his position on the ground. "What do you think you're doing in my room?" He dangerously asked. "Did you even knock?"

"No, but I need to have a word with you."

"It can't wait?"

"No."

Moryo groaned and lazily rolled over. Picking himself up from the ground, Moryo rolled his head to the side and regarded Maglor in a bored manner.

"What do you want?" He drawled.

Maglor studied Moryo closely.

"Well, you see, Caranthir, I realized something earlier today..." He slowly said.

"And what was that?" Moryo absentmindedly replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Maglor allowed a slow smirk to grow on his lips. "And you have just proven that I was right."

"What do you mean?" Moryo asked, genuinely confused.

"You're right, Maglor!" Aredhel breathed, stepping into the room.

Moryo turned his head sharply to face Maglor.

"Maglor?"

"Caranthir."

"So, he is the other." Turgon said to himself, following after his sister. Moryo followed them with his eyes as they went to stand beside Maglor.

"Aredhel and Turgon, I'm guessing?" Moryo huffed, seemingly not surprised, but Maglor could tell from his brown eyes that he was.

"That's us." Aredhel nodded.

"How'd you figure it out?" Moryo asked Maglor, taking a seat on the chest positioned against the backboard of his bed.

"Well, first off, the day that I first returned to the past should've given it away, but I wasn't exactly in my right mind."

"That's an understatement." Moryo muttered under his breath. "So, what about that day should've given me away?" he asked, leaning back against the backboard, waiting for his brother to tell him.

"The name you called me."

"Makalaurë?"

"No. Brother."

"Toron?"

"Ah," Maglor raised a finger into the air, "But that wasn't what you said."

"Pray tell, what was it that I said?"

"If I remember correctly, whenever I raised my blade against Tyelko, you ordered, 'Put your blade down, _muindor.'_ "

He waited for a moment as Moryo thought back to the day they'd found Maglor and discovered that it was true. "Brilliant deduction, Maglor. Anything else that gave me away?"

"Yes. The night I awoke after the three of you found me, in the Family Room."

"What about that night?" Moryo wanted to know. "Did I slip up again?"

"You did, but no one, not even I, noticed. Until a few moments ago, that is. You were lecturing me on my sudden return then demanded, 'Where in _Morgoth's_ name were you?' I do believe Morgoth is still known as Melkor in this time, but that could just be me. "

"Hm. Yes, I guess that would give me away." Moryo, now Caranthir, agreed. "So, we've got four of us now."

"Five." Turgon corrected.

"Five?" Caranthir parroted.

"Uh-huh. We have Maglor's son with us too. Only, he doesn't remember much." Aredhel explained. Caranthir blinked several times, debating whether or not he'd heard correctly, then looked to Maglor.

"Your son?"

"Yes. Elrond. He is with Nalara at this moment."

"Your son?"

Maglor rolled his eyes. "I believe we've already established that. I had two. Twins, in fact."

"You?"

"Is it truly that surprising? I mean, out of all of us, Curvo was the first to marry and have a child."

"Good point." Caranthir conceded. "So...What now?"

"We need to find the last person who's meant to help us." Maglor answered. "Wherever they may be." He narrowed his eyes when Moryo took on a thoughtful expression. "You have an idea who the last one might be?"

"I think I might." Caranthir said, glancing outside for a quick moment. "And they're linked to those cursed bats I keep finding everywhere. D'you know, just today, I found one on my ceiling when I woke up."

Maglor snickered and Caranthir threw him a withering glare.

"It is a little creepy if you ask me."

"I don't disagree with you there."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

"I don't know why, but for some reason, I'm really tired." Aredhel announced, stretching her arms high up into the air as she trailed after Maglor, Caranthir, and Turgon down the Family Corridor to the Dining Hall.

"Same here." Maglor agreed, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he yawned. "I think after dinner is finished, I shall check on Elrond then retire for the night."

"Doesn't the Feast start soon?" Aredhel asked him, tilting her head up to look at Maglor.

"Two days time." Maglor said in response.

"I can't wait!" Aredhel squealed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Turgon sighed at his sister's antics as she started to dance around them. "There are going to be so many people! So much food and desserts! Don't forget about the dancing!" She started to ramble on and the three Ellons listened to her as they continued the long trek to the Dining Hall.

They laughed when Aredhel, who was no longer paying attention to what was around her, ran straight into the doors of the Dining Hall.

"AI!" Aredhel yipped, rubbing the bridge of her nose and wincing. "Ow, that actually hurt!"

"I'm sure it did." Turgon sympathetically patted Aredhel's head and opened the Dining Hall doors. They stepped in to find everyone already seated at the table, with Fëanaro and Nerdanel happily seated across from one another. Finwë had seated himself to Fëanaro's right and Nelyo was to his left while Curvo and Tyelko flanked their mother. Ambarto and Pityo were also next to Curvo. Nolofinwë and Findekano were across from one another next to Ambarto and Pityo. That left four seats next to Nolofinwë, Findekano, Nelyo, and Finwë.

"Look who decided to show up!" Curvo called loudly, drawing everyone's attention to the four newcomers.

"Makalaurë! Irissë!" Tyelko greeted. "And Turukano. Morofinwë."

"Where were you two?" Nelyo inquired of Maglor when his brother slipped into the seat beside him. Turgon took a seat beside Maglor while Aredhel and Caranthir seated themselves beside Finwë and Nolofinwë.

"We found something along the path and decided to check it out." Maglor answered with ease, Aredhel nodding along with his words.

"You spent quite some time checking it, then." Curvo commented. "You spent our entire trip to the Waterfall with it."

"It was a wounded animal. Irissë and I had not the heart to leave it."

"Oh, poor thing. Is it alright?" Nerdanel asked, concerned. Maglor smiled at his Mother.

"Yes. It is safe and sound."

"Good."

"Now that everyone is present, we may commence eating." Fëanaro announced. The twin enthusiastically dug into their meal, leaving Maglor to shake his head at them.

The family conversed with one another about how their day had gone and what they planned on doing. Maglor found that Turgon was pleasant company. They talked for nearly the entire mealtime, sharing stories and telling one another of everything they'd been doing.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, Maglor quietly asked, "Turgon, when did you arrive?"

Turgon leaned closer to Maglor and whispered back, "Shortly after Aredhel. I had a training incident when Findekano let loose a stray arrow. I found myself in the healing ward with Findekano taking the entire blame for my injury. I must admit, I do believe I scared the daylights out of him."

Curious, Maglor had to ask, "Why?"

"Well...I did not take very well to suddenly finding myself in the past and immediately being greeted by Findekano." Turgon honestly told him. "But, when the Healer told me what had happened, I couldn't help but pretend that I had amnesia and had no idea who anyone was."

"How cruel! I take it he didn't handle that well."

"Oh no." Turgon shook his head, highly amused, recalling every moment of the incident. Findekano had looked so frightened and lost, and terribly guilty. "He panicked and nothing anyone could do would calm him down. I kept that charade up for days."

"Why would you do such a thing?!" Even though Maglor wasn't close to Findekano, and had never truly gotten to know his cousin, he felt for the Ellon. It had to be a horrifying experience. He knew Findekano had probably drowned himself in his guilt during those horrid days.

"To teach him a lesson." Turgon explained. "I would never do anything as heartless as that without a reason, Maglor!"

"Teach him a lesson? What lesson was that?"

"Well, there were several I taught him, though, Findekano didn't take too well to that." Turgon winced slightly when he recalled how Findekano had reacted. "And he has everyone believing he is a kind Ellon..." The tall Elf muttered, throwing his brother a glare. "All of those stories I could tell that would prove otherwise...He forgave me soon enough."

"Truly?" Maglor watched Findekano for a few moments but quickly looked away when Findekano caught them staring at him. The dark-haired Ellon raised an eyebrow when Turgon and Maglor smothered their laughter and started speaking to one another again.

"They look as if they are conspiring against us." Findekano remarked to his Father. Nolofinwë pulled away from his conversation with Finwë to see who his son was talking about and spotted Turukano and Maklaurë deep in conversation with one another, the two leaning close as they lowered their voices to a whisper. Every once in a while, the two would look away to watch someone else seated around the table then return to their conversation.

"Aye, that they do." Nolofinwë agreed, a little baffled. When had Turukano and Makalaurë grown to become like friends? Turukano and Makalaurë would normally keep to themselves, but that didn't seem to be the case anymore. Glancing around the table, he was even more surprised when he found Irissë seated beside Moryo, comfortably speaking with one another. Irissë was happily chatting away and biting into the fruit she held in her hand while listening to whatever Moryo had to say. Makalaurë and Turukano continued their conversation, becoming deeply engrossed in whatever subject they were talking about. Nelyo and Fëanaro were quietly speaking with one another, Curvo and Tyelko were helping Ambarto and Pityo, and Nerdanel was overlooking everyone, a small smile gracing her lips.

"The Feast is to begin tomorrow." Nelyo abruptly announced, and the talking died down as everyone looked his way. "Has everything been prepared?"

"I've completed my duties." Curvo and Tyelko chimed, with Makalaurë and and Moryo also voicing the same.

Nerdanel excitedly announced, "I finished my project a few hours ago and I wish for everyone to see it!"

"I'm certain it's fantastic, Ammë." Makalaurë complimented, and Nerdanel beamed.

"I do hope so! I plan on setting it out in the Hall."

Curvo rolled his eyes. "All of your work is superb, Ammë."

"My children are too kind!" Nerdanel commented, Fëanaro nodding in agreement.

"But, they are correct."

"We done too!" Ambarto and Pityo added, raising their tiny hands into the air. Curvo and Tyelko ducked when the fruit they had on their forks went flying over them. "Oops." The twins giggled, patting their brothers' arms apologetically.

"Little pests."

"And pwoud!" Ambarto and Pityo stated, puffing out their small chests and jutting their chins out in an arrogant manner.

"Who taught those two that, I wonder?" Nelyo muttered under his breath, discretely eyeing Moryo, Curvo, and Tyelko.

"They learn from the best." Tyelko defended himself, and his two brothers.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Makalaurë uttered softly, innocently looking away when the three glared at him.

Fëanaro grinned at the light banter his sons shared, wondering how they could have such a strong bond with one another. All of them were different from one another, and yet, they were so close, much unlike himself and his two other brothers.

His eyes twinkled as he thought over the announcement he wished to share with his family. Nerdanel happened to catch the look and raised an eyebrow.

"I recognize that look, Fëanaro. You're excited about something."

He mysteriously smiled in response.

"Well, out with it, Atto!" Curvo urged, wanting to know what his Father was keeping from them.

"Have you started another project, Fëanaro?" Finwë questioned, and Fëanaro dipped his head in his direction.

"That I have, Atto." He answered, not catching the way Makalaurë, Turukano, Irissë, and Moryo slowly lowered their utensils and shot one another an uneasy look.

"It wasn't supposed to happen so soon, was it?" Turgon whispered to Maglor.

"I don't think so. Too early." Maglor replied, though a flicker of fear surged through him. Across from them, Maglor could see Aredhel and Moryo having the same conversation, concernedly meeting his eyes, a silent question blazing within them.

He tried his best to ease their growing fear, gesturing for them to wait for Fëanaro to announce what his project was.

"What project is this?"

"The greatest I will ever partake of, I imagine." Fëanaro answered, and Maglor felt ice-cold claws grip at his heart. "Tis a rather large project I hope to accomplish."

"What- What is this project, Atar?" Maglor managed to ask, stuttering a bit.

Fëanaro rested his intense gaze on Maglor, "You will have to wait and see, my child, but I can tell you that it will take a large amount of concentration and risk. Manipulation too. What I plan on doing has never been done before. It is a tough challenge I hope to overcome, but I fear the light may be too strong and untamed."

Whatever else his Father was saying was lost to Maglor, who sat frozen in his seat. Turgon had also gone still beside him, the Elf tightening his hold on his fork. Caranthir blanched, and Aredhel had a death-grip on the dark-Elf's arm, her form tense as she stared, wide-eyed, at Maglor.

Maglor didn't know what to think, and he knew the three others felt the same. He was lost, unsure of what to feel. Sharp fear and a tinge of panic exploded within him and Maglor fought to keep his expression neutral.

Light, Fëanaro had said.

Light.

It was happening. This was how it had all started.

They had nothing planned! And they had yet to find the last person meant to aid them.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

That night, neither Maglor, Turgon, Aredhel, or Caranthir could sleep. The four had been unable to finish their meal, numbly listening to Fëanaro as he told his family some of what his project would include. Once dinner was over, the four quickly fled the area and sought refuge in Maglor's room, where they remained still. Aredhel had curled up on the chaise nearest the balcony while Caranthir had stolen Maglor's bed. Turgon was seated atop his chest, thoughtfully watching as Maglor briskly paced the length of his room, his fingers intertwined together behind his back as he burned holes into the carpet.

Caranthir finally decided to break the silence. "What do we do now, Maglor?"

Maglor exhaled deeply as he turned to face his brother, helplessly shrugging. "I'm not sure. We can't approach Fëanaro and ask him kindly to drop the project...Valar forbid we ever did that. But..."

Turgon spoke up after Maglor trailed off, his fingers drumming against the lid of the chest, "What if we were to get a hold of the plans? Destroy them so that Fëanaro could no longer use them?" He suggested.

Aredhel shook her head. "But, I don't think Fëanaro even had plans laid out for the Silmarils. I think it was all in his mind."

"It was." Maglor affirmed Aredhel's words with a disturbed nod. "He dreamt it up one night and suddenly decided that he must create the Silmarils. At first, he was only creating them to see if it was possible to capture the light of Laurelin and Telperion. When he completed it, he showed it to everyone...It was only when Morgoth wanted the Silmarils for himself that Fëanaro lusted after them. He was consumed with madness when Morgoth slew Finwë and stole the Silmarils..." Maglor couldn't help but shudder when he thought about those horrid days. "It frightened me...It frightened everyone. At least Ammë had enough sense to leave when she did."

"Maglor..."

"I'm fine." Maglor quickly assured Aredhel, inhaling deeply as he tried to calm himself. "I only wish I had the courage she had. I was a fool to follow, but after the burning of the ships, I knew I was doomed. There was nothing left for me. The Mad Elf continued, led us to slay our own kin and swear that accursed Oath!" His fist slammed down on the top of his desk as he seethed, causing everyone else to jump. "And for what?! It was all for nothing in the end! Thousands upon thousands were slain, nations crumbled, lives were ruined, and we still went on! I wanted to leave. I wanted to flee from the Oath; I even tried to!" Maglor breathlessly rambled, his eyes wild as he recalled the day he had tried to run away from everything. "But Maedhros caught me...He was furious..." He choked on his words as the fear he felt on the day he faced his brother's wrath freshly tingled down his spine. "Amrod and Amras even stopped me from taking my own life. It was because of them I held on... But then, Curufin, Caranthir, and Celegorm were slain...And Amrod and Amras... I didn't know if or how I could go on."

Maglor's suddenly calmed, his breathing growing steady as he remembered the Sacking of Sirion. Well, something specific that came out of destroying the Havens. "And then I met Elrond and Elros. I've heard Elves claim that I pitied the two, but the truth is, they reminded me so much of Ambarto and Pityo. They reminded me of everything I once had. I couldn't allow Maedhros to kill them."

"Is it true that you threatened to kill Maedhros if he so much as laid a finger on the two?" Caranthir asked, leaning forward as Maglor huffed out a laugh.

"I did. I suggested taking them as hostages, though Maedhros knew better. Hostages?" Maglor shook his head. "That wasn't what they were. We knew we wouldn't be getting the Silmaril back, so why take hostages? Thankfully, Maedhros thrust them into my care and let it be. Those two never knew it, but they saved me. They gave me hope for a brighter future. Why they ever accepted me and called me their Father, even unto this day, is beyond me. I know they helped Maedhros to heal too." Maglor quietly sighed as he brushed his fingers over the harp laid out on his desk. "They even called him 'Atar,' and he never corrected them. I wish I never had to let them go...But neither Maedhros or I wanted them to suffer because of the Oath. Well, suffer more because of it." He corrected himself, his expression darkening. "We had to let them go...I didn't want to. When they left, it felt suddenly empty. Then we obtained the last two Silmarils and Maedhros..." Tears sprang to Maglor's eyes and the Minstrel furiously wiped them away with his sleeve. "I guess it became too much for him."

"And you cast the last Silmaril into the sea." Turgon sorrowfully finished Maglor's tale.

"Aye...I did..."

"Such a sad tale. Even I'm moved to tears!" A mocking voice abruptly rang throughout the room, and the inhabitants all looked to Aredhel to see if it had been she that had spoken. Aredhel, however, didn't notice it, trying to locate where the voice had come from. "I can sense your anger, grief, and pain, Maglor. We all share the same feelings. But, why linger in the past when you can look forward to the future? After all..."

A heavy wind blew through the open balcony doors and the candles Maglor had lit were put out.

Slowly, Maglor and Turgon rose to their feet when a shadow fell over them. Caranthir and Aredhel raised their heads to look up at the window nearest the balcony, watching as a nimble and lean figure flew into the room, landing in the middle of the four.

"That's what we're here to create, isn't it?" The figure rhetorically asked, raising their head to face Maglor. They smiled, allowing Maglor to see their sharp fangs and bright red eyes.

Maglor could hardly believe it. Surely, Din was jesting. This could not be the last person they needed for this task. This person was the last he would ever have expected to help them! But, there they were, standing right before them.

They hadn't changed. The same short, greyish-white hair that framed their face matched with dark eyebrows, red eyes, and wearing the same black, armored, outfit... He remembered them quite well.

The figure tilted their head to the side, their smile growing wide as they took in Maglor's reaction. "From what I've heard, Fëanaro's gotten started on crafting those Silmarils, huh? So, we'd better start planning. "

No answer.

The figure sighed melodramatically and rolled their eyes. "Right. Let me put it another way...Cheer up and let's get to work, alright?"

Maglor only blinked, telling the figure that their words had yet to sink into his thick skull. "Thuringwethil?" The Minstrel finally said.

Thurginwethil's shoulder slumped as she rolled her head back in exasperation. "Congratulations, Maglor, you remember who I am." She shot him a dull and bored look. "So, now that that's settled, can we finally get to work?"

"Thuringwethil?" Aredhel repeated, her brows drawing together in confusion. "Why in Eru's name did Din send Thuringwethil here?"

Thurginwethil dropped her head forward and settled herself on the chaise that Aredhel had abandoned.

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

"Well," Both Maglor and Caranthir chimed, "I guess that explains the bats."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _ **Alrighty. Another chapter up and several more to go! I certainly hope it was worth reading.  
Remember, constructive criticism most welcome! And thanks a bunch for the reviews and PMs! They've been very helpful and keep me motivated!**_

 _ **~Juliette Morbu**_


	7. Maglor's Past Pt 1

_**Gosh this is soooooo late! I am SO sorry! I've had so many appointments trying to figure out what's up with my knees and everything (Turns out I've sprained like every ligament possible :/) I really don't understand how that's possible since I don't do much during the days. Then, I had to go to a camp, and during my time away, my Uncle passed. So now, my family is travelling to Texas to support my Aunt's family.**_ _ **I promise I will update more frequently and I hope you guys are enjoying this story! I know there's not a lot of action and all, but I'm doing my best! I received some PM's and a couple of reviews asking me to update, so here I am! So, here's the next chapter!**_

 _ **Basically, it's about Maglor's Elflinghood/Childhood? And events from when he was an adolescent.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _ **A Glimpse of the Past-**_

Fëanaro worriedly paced the length of the corridor, his hands held tightly together behind his back. Nerdanel, he'd heard from Nelyo and his sitter, had gone into labor, and the Healers believed it was going to be a difficult one. Nelyo sat in a nearby chair, fidgeting every once in a while and his eyes would swivel over to the door at the far end of the corridor with immense worry.

It didn't help that his Father also appeared nervous. Nelyo was already nervous enough as it was. He didn't know what to expect. He was twenty-eight and already growing tall. Taller than most elflings his age, seeing as he was already up to his Father's waist. And now, he was about to have a baby brother. Or sister, neither of them knew. Nerdanel had wanted it to be a surprise, but Nelyo, for some unknown reason, knew it was going to be a boy.

He was going to be an older brother.

Nelyo was excited, but also worried. What if he was a terrible older brother? What if he wasn't what his brother needed? Would he like his brother? His father hated his...

"Why is it taking so long?" Nelyo heard his Father mutter, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes darted in the direction of his and Nerdanel's chambers. Nelyo bit his lower lip, tightly gripping the edge of his chair.

"Atto?"

Fëanaro started at his son's voice and looked over to find Nelyo shifting in his chair uneasily, looking up at his Father from beneath a curtain of hair. Fëanaro's eyes softened as he wandered over to where his son was. Placing a comforting hand on Nelyo's red head, Fëanaro smiled reassuringly.

"I'm certain everything is well, Nelyo. Your Mother is strong."

"I hope." Nelyo whispered, eyeing the floor once again as he kicked his feet. "Will I like him?" He questioned aloud.

Fëanaro tilted his head in question. "Will you like who?"

"My brother." Nelyo clarified, raising his head to meet his Father's gaze. "Will I like him?"

"And how do you know you're going to have a brother, hm?"

"I can feel it." Nelyo answered. "But, Atto, will I like him?" He asked again, gazing up at his Father in question.

"I'm sure you will, Nelyo."

"Will I be a good older brother?"

Fëanaro huffed out a laugh at his son's insecurities. "The best, Nelyo. I know for certain you will be." Ruffling Nelyo's hair, Fëanaro added, "You have no need to worry, little one."

"Not little." Nelyo immediately corrected and Fëanaro gave him a sideways grin.

"No, you're not anymore, are you? You're growing like a weed."

Nelyo broadly smiled at the statement when the doors to his parents' chambers flew open and a nurse came rushing out. Fëanaro whipped around to face her, barely concealed fear dancing within his piercing blue orbs. Nelyo shuffled closer to his Father, silently seeking comfort when he caught sight of the nurse.

Something had gone wrong.

That was the only reason this nurse would have come racing out the way she had.

"Nalara, what is it?" Fëanaro demanded to know, worry making his tone sharper than he intended.

Nalara raised her head to face her Lord, fists bunching the fabric of her apron. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, frightening Fëanaro even more.

"Nalara, has something happened?"

"The delivery was more difficult than Healer Kliara had thought, Milord." Nalara began, and Fëanaro's mind immediately turned to the worst.

"Nerdanel? Is Nerdanel..?" He left the sentence hanging, unable to bring himself to finish it.

"Nerdanel is very weak, but she will live...It is..." Nalara blearily blinked her eyes, which were shimmering suspiciously and Nelyo felt a sharp pang of hurt flash through him.

It wasn't his Mother Nalara was trying to say was fading...It was his brother!

"The babe?" Fëanaro breathed out, and Nalara's once-bright eyes drifted shut as she reluctantly nodded.

Nelyo didn't wait to hear the rest of what Nalara had to say, instead breaking into a full-out sprint to his parents' chambers.

His baby brother was in danger of fading, Nelyo could sense it, and he refused to allow him to go!

"Nelyo!" Fëanaro's voice echoed throughout the corridor after him as the tall Ellon ran after him.

Sharply turning into the wide chamber, Nelyo skidded to a stop in front of the bed his Mother was lying in.

At his sudden entry, the Healers started. Nerdanel weakly turned her head to face him, her fair features streaked with tears. "Nelyo?" She softly murmured, too weak to speak.

Nelyo regarded his Ammë for a brief second then focused his attention on the white bundle in his Mother's arms. "Toron..?" He whispered, swallowing thickly as he crawled onto the bed, careful not to jostle it too much. "Toron?"

"Oh, Nelyo..." Nerdanel sighed, knowing Nelyo must have heard the devastating news. She, herself, felt as if she had been struck by a troll's hammer. The knowledge that her newborn was going to die was too much for her to bear. His delivery had been early...Two months earlier than expected. The Healer Kliara had performed an emergency delivery, hoping to save the babe, but it appeared that their efforts had all been for naught.

The babe hadn't even cried when it was born. It had remained peacefully silent, and it's eyes were closed, but Nerdanel knew that if the baby had opened them, she would have seen the most beautiful blue eyes that held the oceans hidden behind those closed lids. There was even a puff of inky-black hair to match those eyes.

Fëanaro entered the room next, slowing his pace as he neared the bed, his heart breaking at the crestfallen expression his wife wore and the denial flickering in Nelyo's eyes. As soon as he reached the two, Fëanaro carefully sat himself on the edge of the bed and wrapped a comforting arm around his weak wife's shoulders while placing a comforting hand on Nelyo's shoulder. Gazing down at the still babe with love and tears shining in his eyes, Fëanaro whispered, "He would have been a beautiful little Elfling."

"And would have grown to be a handsome Ellon." Nerdanel lovingly added, watching as Fëanaro delicately ran a finger down the babe's cheek before cupping it.

"And he will be!" Nelyo fiercely told both his parents, refusing to believe that his brother would die. How could his parents place such little faith in his tiny brother?

"Nelyo-" Fëanaro began, understanding how his son felt, but Nelyo would have none of it.

"No! Don't, Atto! He will live! I know it!" Nelyo firmly stated, gently taking one of his brother's small hands into his. He marveled at how his hand engulfed the little one's. "No, Toron. Don't let go, alright? You have to open your eyes, okay?" Nelyo softly said to the babe, earnestly pleading in his heart for his brother to live. "You need to say hello to the world, and to your brother, right? I've been waiting for you, everyone has! Now that you're here, you can't just leave without greeting us, now, can you? That wouldn't be fair!"

Nerdanel could have sworn her heart was breaking even more as she watched Nelyo attempt to talk his baby brother into opening his eyes. Fëanaro silently watched, none of the Healers moving from their spot as they watched the sad event unfold before them.

"Come on...Just think about everything we could do together! Think of all of the fun we'd have! I want to be your big brother, but I can't be if you leave me. Just this once, okay? Open your eyes...That's all you need to do, and I know you can do it!"

"Nelyo-" Nerdanel started to say, but came to a sudden stop when she felt her arms move. It wasn't exactly noticeable, but since Nerdanel had been holding the tiny bundle, she knew she had felt it shift. "What...?"

"Nerdanel?" Fëanaro worriedly turned to face his wife.

"Oh, by the Valar, Fëanaro! Look!" Nerdanel breathlessly exclaimed, staring down at the babe in shock and rising hope. Fëanaro immediately did as told and watched, stunned, as the babe's nose crinkled and his free fist moved. Nelyo gazed down at him with a growing smile.

"That's it, Toron! That's it!" He encouraged.

The babe, as if listening to his brother, parted his lips and let out a small, high pitched, whine before snapping his jaw shut and forcing his blue eyes to flutter open.

"Tis a miracle!" Healer Kliara exclaimed, all of the Healers struck with a sense of awe and amazement as they watched the babe whine again and squirm in his mother's arms.

Fëanaro and Nerdanel would've agreed if they hadn't known that it wasn't a miracle. It had been Nelyo who had called out to his brother, had placed tremendous faith in him, and coaxed him to return to them.

Nelyo released a watery laugh, overjoyed, his laugh mixing in with his brother's musical whines.

"He lives! He lives! Atto, Ammë!" Nelyo beamed.

"Yes..." was all Fëanaro could say, struck dumb at the vision before him.

"He does..." Nerdanel whispered, her voice wavering as she was overcome with a powerful wave of emotion. "He does!"

"Little Kanafinwë pulled through..." Fëanaro adoringly whispered, and Nerdanel clutched the babe closer to her, sobbing in relief and joy. Fëanaro pulled Nelyo against him, crushing the tall Elfling against his chest and burying his face in his hair. "It was because of you, Nelyo...He heard you...He knew you believed in him..."

His two sons would share a powerful bond, Fëanaro knew. Nelyo and the little babe had already proved that today, and Fëanaro would forever be in Nelyo's debt for saving his tiny son.

Nelyo didn't quite understand why his parents were so grateful to him, but he knew one thing for sure: he would make sure little Kanafinwë didn't regret pulling away from the Halls of Mandos.

* * *

 **~Duplicity~**

"My, he is so small!" Nolofinwë remarked in awe, gazing down at his newest nephew.

"Yes, he is, isn't he?" Nerdanel giggled, listening as Kanafinwë warbled along with the flute playing nearby. "And a musical one. He absolutely adores music."

Kanafinwë blinked when Nerdanel tapped his nose, releasing an irritated whine when he was interrupted from his singing.

"Well, excuse me, you little monster." Nerdanel dramatically told the babe, shaking her head when Kanafinwë fell back into singing with the flute.

Nolofinwë smiled at the beautiful babe, though there was a trace of pain behind it.

Nerdanel caught the longing look Nolofinwë was giving her child and smiled. "Do you wish to hold him, Nolofinwë?"

Nolofinwë sharply raised his head at Nerdanel, embarrassed to have been caught. "Oh, it's fine. I...I couldn't..." He started to say, but Nerdanel tsked.

"Come now, Nolofinwë."

Nolofinwë shook his head, eyeing Fëanaro in the corner of his eye. "I am content in watching him, Nerdanel, but I, ehm, thank you for offering." He flashed her a small smile and Nerdanel suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at Nolofinwë. She, unlike Fëanaro, didn't resent the Ellon. He was a good friend and wise, and she knew he would take care of her children should anything ever befall Fëanaro or herself. She wished Fëanaro wasn't so harsh to his brother- half-brother or not. She knew Fëanaro resented Nolofinwë because Finwë supposedly held him in much higher regard than Fëanaro, and Nerdanel knew Nolofinwë felt the same. She'd overheard Nolofinwë confiding to a young Arafinwë that he felt Finwë didn't love him as much as he loved Fëanaro. He felt he was walking in Fëanaro's shadow, not that he minded, but he wished Finwë wouldn't compare him to Fëanaro every chance he had. Nolofinwë, Nerdanel could see, idolized Fëanaro. He had ever since he was an Elfling, and Nerdanel wished Fëanaro could see how much he meant to Nolofinwë and try to at least get along with his brother.

Not that she would ever voice her thoughts aloud. Valar knew how Fëanaro would react.

"Nonsense." Nerdanel dismissively said, rising and approaching Nolofinwë with quick steps, knowing she'd better act fast or Nolofinwë would flee.

Nolofinwë, catching what Nerdanel was going to do, immediately tried to rise from his seat, a reason as to why he suddenly had to leave just on the tip of his tongue when Nerdanel placed Kanafinwë in his arms.

"My son needs to get know his Uncle."

Nolofinwë remained stock-still, staring, wide-eyed, at Kanafinwë. Fëanaro, who'd been conversing with his Father, caught sight of Nerdanel's movement and frowned when he watched his wife place Kanafinwë in his brother's arms. But, as he watched Nolofinwë relax and regard his son which such awe and adoration, decided it was fine.

Kanafinwë, sensing another unfamiliar presence, rested his blue eyes on Nolofinwë, pausing in his singing. For a long moment, he and Nolofinwë locked gazes, then Kanafinwë cooed and giggled contentedly, happily resuming his soft warbles while waving his tiny arms in the air.

"He is beautiful, Nerdanel." Nolofinwë remarked softly.

"Thank-you."

"He will be the best musician Valinor has ever had, Uncle!" Nelyo declared from his place on the carpet. Nolofinwë thoughtfully glanced his way, watching Nelyo strategically build the best fort he could with the building blocks Nolofinwë had bought for him a few years previous.

"I think you are right, Nelyo." Nolofinwë agreed, chuckling when Kanafinwë whined unhappily. The flute player had finished their song and had decided they were finished, much to Kanafinwë dismay. "I think you are right..."

* * *

 **~Duplicity~**

Nelyo exhaled heavily as he plopped, face-first, onto his bed. Today had been an exhausting day. In fact, this entire week had been nothing but torture for the newly-turned twenty-nine year old. His parents were busy, they'd been busy, and hardly ever came home, leaving Nelyo to care for Kanafinwë, who, for reasons unknown to Nelyo, was also upset.

He had fed Kanafinwë at the exact times Healer Kliara had said to, changed him whenever he needed to, and made sure he took a nap. It wasn't that Kanafinwë had been a bad baby or anything, he just...wasn't himself. Kanafinwë had been upset ever since Nelyo had gotten up that morning, and nothing Nelyo could do would cheer him up. Kanafinwë was now eight months old, but he was still tiny. It made Nelyo nervous.

He feared for his little brother. Kanafinwë looked so fragile Nelyo was afraid something bad would happen to him. On top of all that, Kanafinwë had started walking at seven months!

This caused Nelyo's worry to spike, and had him panicking earlier that morn. He had decided Kanafinwë could use some fresh air and had taken the young Elfling out to the Gardens. Kanafinwë had been content with sitting around and playing with whatever he could get his hands on, but after two minutes, he'd grown bored.

Nelyo had been trying to finish up one of his projects when he raised his head to check on his brother... Only to find that Kanafinwë was no longer there.

Almost at once, Nelyo went wild with terror and dropped everything to locate his younger brother. Thoughts of what could have possibly happened to Kanafinwë filled his mind and when Nelyo couldn't find him, he had fallen to his knees, ready to cry.

He'd failed.

He'd failed his parents, he'd failed himself...but worse of all, he'd failed Kanafinwë. What if his little brother was injured? What if he was hurt and Nelyo had no idea? What kind of brother was he?!

Nelyo had pulled his knees up against his chest, encircling them tightly with his arms, then allowed his head to fall against them, furiously blinking away the tears.

Crying wouldn't help him find Kanafinwë. No. If he wanted to find Kanafinwë, he needed to chin up and calmly search for the elfling. He was bound to be somewhere in these vast gardens.

Inhaling deeply, Nelyo calmed his frantically beating heart and raised his head.

He was surprised to see Kanafinwë worriedly peering up at him, one tiny hand resting on his knee and the other reaching up to grasp a fistful of red hair. His small brow was furrowed in concern, his lips pursed together in a pout as he tugged Nelyo's hair.

"Kanafinwë!" Nelyo had exclaimed, relieved, and had gathered the small Elfling in his arms. "Don't do that to me again, Toron! I was so scared that something had happened to you!"

"Ah?" Was all Kanafinwë had uttered, patting Nelyo's shoulder in confusion. He couldn't understand why his brother was upset, but it made him upset to see Nelyo downtrodden.

"What were you even doing, Kano? Where were you?" Nelyo inquired, pulling away in order to look at the eight-month-old.

Kanafinwë sputtered incoherent sounds as an answer to his brother's question, swinging one of his fists up and down as he 'told' Nelyo of his adventure in the gardens. Nelyo laughed at his brother, shaking his head when Kanafinwë pounded his small fist against his chest.

Knowing he'd caught his brother's attention, Kanafinwë slowly opened up his fist to show Nelyo what he had found. Nelyo watched as the finger uncurled around their precious item to reveal a beautiful, red, flower. It was a flower Nelyo didn't recognize and when Kanafinwë poked him again, Nelyo realized what his little brother wanted him to do.

"This is for me?" Nelyo asked the babe, a little incredulous. "You got this for me, Kano?"

Kanafinwë, not understanding any of the words his elder brother was saying, gave him a high-pitched laugh and clapped his hands together when Nelyo took hold of the flower he'd gotten him.

Maybe now his brother would cheer up.

Snuggling closer to Nelyo, reveling in the sense of comfort and safety his elder brother gave him, Kanafinwë yawned and burrowed his head deeper into the fabric of Nelyo's tunic.

That adventure he'd taken had sure been taxing, but it was worth it.

Nelyo fondly watched as Kanafinwë fell into a deep sleep and cradled the small body in his arms. Standing with caution, Nelyo returned to their large home and headed for his room. He knew Kanafinwë had gotten used to staying with him and would be upset if Nelyo left him in his parents' room, so he brought the babe with him to his chambers.

Placing Kanafinwë onto his bed, Nelyo made sure Kanafinwë would be safe by creating a makeshift barrier on the edges of his mattress then, after looking over Kano one last time, went to complete his studies.

Now, he'd finished his studies and Nelyo would allow himself a brief nap before getting ready for dinner. Nestling closer to Kanafinwë, Nelyo shifted until he was comfortable, lightly resting one of his hands on Kanafinwë so that he would wake any time Kanafinwë moved, and allowed himself to give in to his need to sleep.

The flower Kano had given him remained in his hand, and he made sure to dry it out and press it between two pages of his favorite storybook.

* * *

 **~Duplicity~**

At seventeen months, Kanafinwë, now dubbed Kano by Nelyo, had spoken his first word. Actually, his first two words.

And it wasn't one anyone had expected.

But, anytime those present would think back to that memorable moment, they could understand why Kano had chosen for that to be his first word.

Of course, it had made Nerdanel and Fëanaro rather jealous, but they, too, understood.

Nelyo, however, couldn't quite understand why Kano had said it.

The small family, along with Nolofinwë, Arafinwë, and Finwë were gathered together in the Family Room. It was snowing outside, and the holiday Nelyo was excitedly looking forward to was just around the corner.

He'd finished every project he had been working on and couldn't wait to present them to his family. Nelyo was also pleased that the family was spending time together before it was time to retire. His Uncles were seated together on the nearby couch facing Nerdanel and Fëanaro, and Finwë was sitting in the comfortable chair in between the two couches. That left Nelyo with the chaise.

And Nelyo had gladly taken the chaise. Kano, who had now become an expert at walking, had climbed onto the chaise to snuggle with him, happily looking at the pictures in his storybook Nelyo was holding for him.

Kano, much to Nerdanel and Fëanaro's relief, was a calm Elfling. He was also a good one. Kano hardly caused anyone any trouble, unless he was terribly upset over something. He was a quiet Elfling, always observing his surroundings and watching others around him. Whenever he uttered a sound, it was always musical. Even if he was gurgling nonsense, Kano's voice was as smooth as silk. He still loved music with a passion and would always become overly enthusiastic when someone would play an instrument near him.

And, Nelyo discovered that he now had a second shadow. Anywhere he went, Kano followed. It was amusing for many of the Elves to watch. Anytime they would find Nelyo wandering aimlessly through the halls, Kano would patter after him, wanting to be near his brother.

Kano always looked crushed whenever Nelyo had to go somewhere Kano couldn't and it took a lot of effort to part him from Nelyo. Nelyo didn't mind, and he often found that he missed his brother's presence when Kano was gone.

Whenever he retired late at night, Nelyo would always stop by Kano's room to make sure his little brother was sleeping well, undisturbed by nightmares, then go to his room.

This week, however, Nelyo had been released from his lessons and Kano was ecstatic to have his brother back. The Elfling was practically glued to Nelyo.

And, Nelyo smothered a smirk, whenever Nelyo wasn't around, Kano sought out Nolofinwë and Arafinwë. His Father had become rather jealous over that fact.

Finwë sometimes spent time with Kano, entertained by the Elfling's antics.

Kano's bored sigh reigned Nelyo back to the present, and the twenty-nine year old grunted when Kano slumped back against him, slamming his book shut. "Not interested anymore, hm, Kano?" Nelyo grinned, taking the book and setting it onto the table. Kano blew a raspberry in response, mumbling random sounds as if explaining to Nelyo the reason why he was bored with the book. "Uh-huh." Nelyo played along, his smile broadening when Kano started waving his arms around while he continued his long explanation. "Really?"

Kano finished with another heavy sigh, toying with Nelyo's hand.

Nerdanel and the others had watched the entire interaction with amused smiles.

"Kano seems to love you very much, Nelyo." Arafinwë remarked. Nelyo looked up in surprise, as if he'd forgotten anyone else was there, then wrapped his arms around Kano.

"Well, he is my little brother." Nelyo bashfully said. "I'd hope he liked me!"

"And before he was born, you were worried that you wouldn't be a good big brother to him." Fëanaro said with his trademark smirk.

"I try to be." Nelyo humbly responded. "I did promise..."

"Yes, you did. But you needn't worry, Nelyo." Nerdanel assured her son, her heart warming at the sight of her two sons together.

"You are the best big brother Kano could ever ask for." Nolofinwë said, and Nelyo looked to him.

"Do you think so, Uncle?"

"We know so, Nelyo." Nolofinwë nodded, and Nelyo looked relieved. He had been working hard to be the big brother Kano deserved.

"Oh! I forgot the drinks I had made ready for tonight!" Nerdanel abruptly said, berating herself for having forgotten. "Nelyo, would you mind fetching the tray for me, please?"

"Of course, Ammë." Nelyo obediently replied, rising from the chaise and setting Kano down.

Kano, uncertain as to why Nelyo was leaving, let loose a string of unhappy mumbles, as if demanding for him to stay. Nelyo paused long enough to pat Kano's head reassuringly. "Don't worry, Toron. I'll be right back!" He promised, leaving the room quickly.

"I don't think we have anything to worry about, Nerdanel." Fëanaro told his wife once Nelyo was out of earshot. "It appears that Nelyo has everything under control."

"Indeed." Nerdanel huffed out. "Kano absolutely adores Nelyo! I can't help but feel jealous." She admitted, listening to Kano as he tried to hum along with the flutist playing nearby. Surprisingly enough, Kano managed to match the flute's pitch and follow the rhythm with ease.

Oh, yes. It appeared her son would be skilled in music later on.

Never would she have imagined that Kanafinwë would become Valinor's greatest minstrel. Only one other Elf would ever be able to rival Kanafinwë's talent in music.

"Now you understand how I felt when Nelyo refused to let you go when he was but an Elfling." Fëanaro muttered, causing Finwë to laugh.

"Don't worry, Fëanaro, I'm certain you will have your turn." Finwë promised, patting his eldest's shoulder.

"Hmph."

Nelyo returned not long afterwards, a tray of steaming hot cocoa in hand. "Cook also gave me some cookies for us to eat." Nelyo announced, setting the tray down on the center table.

"Oh, Cook is always so kind." Nerdanel smiled, studying the cute cookies Cook had baked. They were shaped as ornaments and stars and colorfully frosted. They looked very delicious that Nerdanel couldn't help but instantly bite into one. "My, my! Cook has truly outdone herself this time!" Nerdanel nearly exclaimed, reaching for another cookie.

"I had better grab one before you eat it all." Fëanaro said, reaching over to take a cookie shaped like a tree off of the tray. Nerdanel shot him a glare, biting into her second cookie. Nelyo, after making sure everyone was given their drinks, made to step back when his foot slipped on one of Kano's stray toys.

Uttering a small cry, Nelyo toppled backwards, striking his head on the small table beside the chaise painfully.

"Oh Valar! Nelyo!" Nerdanel exclaimed, dropping her cookie and leaping to her feet at once and rushing to her son's side. Fëanaro was quick to follow, kneeling at his son's other side while everyone else stood and watched with concern.

Nelyo had squeezed his eyes shut from the pain, raising a hand to cover the part of his head he'd hit.

Kano, who had overheard the commotion, looked over to see Nelyo lying on the ground. Catching the pained look Nelyo wore, Kano concernedly slipped off of the chaise and waddled over to his brother's side, bottom lip wobbling when Nelyo hissed in pain.

"Are you alright, Nelyo? Should we call for a healer?" Nerdanel was demanding to know, trying to get a good look at Nelyo's injury, but Nelyo refused to move his hand.

"After a fall like that, yes!" Fëanaro answered, gently grabbing hold of Nelyo's wrist. "Come now, Nelyo, let me see."

Kano stared, wide-eyed, when Fëanaro was allowed to pull Nelyo's hand away and see the large bump and the beginning of a nasty bruise just above his right ear. There was also a trickle of blood running down the side of his head that caused Kano to cringe. It looked painful.

"To'on?" Kano shakily called out, forcing his way past Nerdanel to reach Nelyo's side.

Nelyo snapped his eyes open upon hearing Kano's voice and raised them to look up at his baby brother in surprise. Kano had tears shimmering in his eyes as the Elfling stared, horrified, at the bruise and blood on his brother's head. "To'on?" He repeated, not realizing that everyone had gone silent and were staring at him in shock.

"K-Kano?"

"Nel..." Kano's lips wobbled as he reached a small hand out to touch his brother's head, making sure not to place his hand anywhere near the bruise.

The pain suddenly dulled to a throbbing sensation when Nelyo realized what Kano was saying. He had called him 'Toron' and had tried saying his name, 'Nelyo.'

All of the other Elves seemed to have come to the same conclusion, with Nerdanel staring at Kano.

The Elleth's jaw had dropped in shock. "Kano..!"

"I don't believe it..." Fëanaro breathed.

Nelyo sat up, leaning against Fëanaro when his head pounded at the sudden movement. "Kano, what did you say?" He asked, wanting to make sure he'd heard correctly.

Kano, confused but knowing he'd done something to please his brother, replied, "To'on!"

"Amazing!" Finwë laughed. "He's spoken his first two words!"

"Toron and Nelyo. Well, what do you know?" Nolofinwë murmured.

"I never would have expected those to be his first..." Fëanaro lowly remarked, mostly to himself.

Nelyo couldn't help but smile widely at Kano. "Good job, tithen Toron!" Nelyo congratulated the babe. Kano grew even more confused, wondering what he'd done to receive such reactions, but as long as Nelyo was happy, he was fine.

"To'on..." Kano settled himself in Nelyo's lap and stared up at the red-head. Nelyo, still smiling, patted his brother's head, proud that Kano had spoken not only his first, but two, words.

* * *

 **~Duplicity~**

"Ai, Valar!"

The frustrated growl caught Nelyo's attention and the red-head looked to find Kanafinwë, now known as Makalaurë, heavily leaning against a pillar by the gardens. He looked...upset, and that was most concerning.

Makalaurë ran a hand down his face, rolling his blue eyes up at the sky in irritation. "Why me?"

Nelyo leaned further around the corner to see Makalaurë clutching the remains of...

Oh...

Was that a harp Makalaurë was holding?

"Kano? Is everything alright?" Once the words fled past his lips, Nelyo wanted to slap himself. Of course everything was not alright! It was clear from the way Makalaurë's shoulders were tense and his eyes were blazing with fury.

Makalaurë whipped around at the question, appearing ready to run Nelyo right through. "Is everything alright?!" Makalaurë repeated, scowling darkly. "No, Nelyo! Nothing is alright! What is wrong with me, you must be wondering. I'll tell you what's wrong!" The adolescent bit out, trembling in barely concealed rage. Nelyo bit his lip, wondering what could have angered his brother so. It was a little frightening to see, since Makalaurë was the calmest most unprovoked of all of Fëanaro's children. "Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo decided it would be most amusing to break into my room and destroy the jewelry I'd been working on in the Forge as a project and, oh, as if that wasn't enough," He continued, breathing harshly, "They completely obliterated my harp! The one Ammë bought for me from-from...URGH!" Makalaurë exclaimed as he threw down what was left of his harp onto the ground as his hands flew up to clutch the braids in his hair.

Tears of anger and sorrow fluttered behind those blue orbs, and it made Nelyo upset.

Nelyo watched, without moving, as Makalaurë closed his eyes and took deep, calming, breaths.

After a few moments, Makalaurë shakily exhaled and straightened himself, fixing the braids he'd messed up. "It doesn't matter, I guess. I'll just...wait to get another one." He murmured, still distressed over the loss of his beloved instrument. With sad eyes, Makalaurë apologized for his wrath to Nelyo and left the gardens before the Ellon could say anything.

Nelyo stared after his brother, worrying his lower lip. It pained him to see Makalaurë so upset. And so it was, that for the remainder of the day, Nelyo tried to figure out what he could do to bring that radiant smile Makalaurë was famous for back onto his face. It was disturbing not to see Makalaurë smile.

When the family gathered round the table for dinner that night, Nerdanel and Fëanaro both expressed their concerns when they found Makalaurë's chair empty.

"He is mourning." Nelyo explained to them, sending a stern and disapproving look in Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo's way. The three shrank back at the stare, guiltily looking at one another.

"Mourning?" Finwë repeated, a little amused by Nelyo's choice of words.

"Aye." Nelyo somberly nodded. "His harp was broken today."

"Oh." Fëanaro straightened at this, catching onto the severity of the situation. "How did that happen? Can it be fixed?"

Nelyo shook his head. "It is beyond repair."

Nerdanel was visibly upset at this. "Oh, poor, Kano. He must be terribly upset! Will he be alright?"

"How was it broken?" Fëanaro inquired, fingering a package he was holding in his hands.

Nelyo eyed his three younger brothers again. "He wouldn't say." Silently, Nelyo communicated to his brothers that he would be the one to lecture them for breaking Kano's harp.

And since that night, neither Tyelko, Moryo, or Curvo dared enter Kano's room without permission or touch any of his instruments. The three had profusely apologized for their actions, which made Kano wonder what exactly Nelyo had said or done to get their brothers to feel so remorseful over breaking his harp, but he certainly wasn't complaining. As long as his instruments were safe...

* * *

 **~Duplicity~**

The second time he had seen Kano become visibly upset had occurred whenever all of the sons of Fëanaro, excluding the twins, were learning how to forge. Fëanaro had decided that his sons needed to learn the arts of Forgery, but neither Nelyo, Kano, Moryo, or Tyelko were good at it. Curvo excelled greatly at forging, and while Tyelko was decent at it, Nelyo had deemed himself a lost cause. He knew Kano and Moryo felt the same, since neither of them could even bring themselves to understand the basics of forging. But, that didn't stop Nelyo from trying.

By practicing for hours on end, Nelyo was now skilled in making jewelry. They weren't fancy, but they were still quite beautiful. While he couldn't forge a sword of his own, even after several decades of practice, Nelyo was of great help to Fëanaro when he was working. If Kano or Moryo needed aid, Nelyo would stop what he was doing and provide them with some advice and show them how a certain thing was done. Moryo seemed to be getting the hang of it, but Kano still couldn't wrap his mind around what he was being taught. Nelyo felt for Kano. Anytime he would look over to his brother, Kano's shoulders were more slumped than usual and his lips were twisted in a disappointed frown. It was clear that Kano was berating himself for not being any good at forging.

One night, Nelyo had overheard Kano call himself a disappointment to Fëanaro, but he'd been unable to confront Kano about it since the minstrel had a tendency to disappear into the night and not return until the moon was high in the sky. This didn't concern Nelyo, since he knew Kano wandered down to his favorite clearing and practice on one of his instruments until he felt comforted enough to face another day.

Right now, Nelyo was helping Fëanaro with purifying the metal they used for their Elven blades. When they finished heating up the sword they were working on, Fëanaro skillfully slicked away the impurities that had floated to the top of the blade. Once through, Fëanaro stabbed the sword back into the fire, calling to Curvo to bring him a few tools he would need. Makalaurë was working hard on whatever Fëanaro had put him up to, and Nelyo could sense the pent up frustration and irritation building up within his younger brother. Outwardly, Makalaurë's calm visage betrayed how he truly felt, but the tenseness of his shoulders and trembling hands told another story. Inwardly, Nelyo had a feeling Makalaurë was ready to explode. He only prayed that it wouldn't happen. Makalaurë could be very frightening when angered or frustrated.

He knew this from personal experience.

Nelyo shuddered just thinking about it.

When Nelyo turned to pull the sword from the fire, he heard Fëanaro breathe out a name in exasperation, "Makalaurë,"

Nelyo's eyes widened marginally as he slowly turned his head to see Fëanaro leaning on Makalaurë's table, standing across from his second-born. His sharp eyes were taking in Makalaurë's ruined project with disappointment and a tinge of annoyance.

Makalaurë bowed his head, as if he'd been chastised and had failed his Father, hiding his eyes from his Father behind a curtain full of inky-black hair. He looked much younger than eighty-four when he shirked back from his Father's disappointment in that manner. The minstrel swallowed thickly, waiting for his Father to begin his lecture.

"I don't understand, Makalaurë. I have taught you this hundreds of times now and you still can't seem to understand even the basics of the procedure!" Fëanaro muttered, shaking his head as he examined pieces of Makalaurë's project scattered over the tabletop. "It is such a simple task! One even an elfling can do while blindfolded!"

Nelyo bit his lip, raising his head to pierce his Father with a disapproving glare. However, Fëanaro didn't seem to catch it, too busy continuing to tell Makalaurë all he'd done wrong and that the project was beyond saving.

By now, Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo had slowly set their tools down, watching Fëanaro scold Makalaurë a little more harshly than necessary. All three of the young Elves glanced in Nelyo's direction, troubled. Curvo was silently urging Nelyo to do something when Makalaurë's trembling increased. Fëanaro, of course, had turned a blind eye to it.

"Tell me, Makalaurë, what is it about this that is so difficult for you to understand? Sixty years of experience and you still cannot seem to comprehend anything I've taught you." Fëanaro continued, and Nelyo could've sworn he'd caught sight of a couple tears slipping down Makalaurë's smooth cheeks and spill onto the ground below. His fingers bunched up the fabric of his apron earnestly, meaning that he was close to his breaking point. "I truly wish to know, Makalaurë-"

Nelyo attempted to intervene before Fëanaro could continue, briskly stalking over and reaching out to firmly grasp his Father's shoulder. He had grown taller than Fëanaro when he'd turned forty, and was now a good few inches taller than Fëanaro. He had only just reached his Father when Makalaurë snapped, unable to handle his Father's disappointment. Whipping his head up, eyes shimmering with tears of frustration and self-hatred, a sight that broke Nelyo's heart to see, Makalaurë clenched his fists at his side and fiercely spat out,

"Can't you see?! I can't! I **can't do it**!" Makalaurë angrily wiped away the tears trailing down his cheeks, his breath hitching a couple of times as he fought to control himself. "I can't forge! I wasn't made to forge!" He shouted, causing Fëanaro to blink in surprise and Nelyo to cringe. He was too late. Makalaurë had had enough, and their Father was just about to see that. "I don't know how to do anything, clearly!" He huffed out.

Curvo hid behind Moryo and Tyelko, who were also backing away, stunned. They had never seen Makalaurë look so...upset before. Except for the time when they'd broken his harp.

"What don't you understand, Atto!?" Makalaurë demanded to know, flinging his arms up into the air. "Can't you tell that I'm a minstrel?! A musician?! I wasn't made for this! I'm not like **you!"** He bit out, and Fëanaro started at this proclamation. "I'll never be like you! Forgive me if I have disappointed you, but that is how I am! I. Am. Me!" He slapped a hand over his chest as if to emphasize this point. His anger, which had been bubbling to the surface, slowly began to cool down and Makalaurë's breathing steadily grew more stable. The minstrel was still trembling, upset with himself and with his Father. Mostly, he was berating himself for not being the son his Father wanted him to be. He couldn't make his Father proud. "Not you...If I have let you down, I apologize, but I can't change who I am, Atto." He inhaled deeply, straightening his back and shoulders. Keeping his eyes low, Makalaurë calmly added, "I hope you will understand."

For what felt like a long time, there was absolute silence in the forge. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fires burning, the flames casting an eerie glow in the darkness of the Forge, lighting up one side of Makalaurë's face and leaving the other half hidden by the shadow. Curvo never once relinquished his hold on his brothers' arms, peering over their shoulders to see if Makalaurë had calmed. It had frightened him more than he was willing to admit, watching Makalaurë blow a fuse and cry. Tyelko and Moryo were also disturbed, watching Makalaurë with startled expressions and worried eyes. They had known Makalaurë detested forging, and that he was known to hate himself for being unable to please their Father, but they hadn't expected this to happen.

Fëanaro apparently hadn't expected it either, the Ellon staring at Makalaurë with an unreadable expression, his lips parted but no sound coming out. It looked as if he didn't know what to say after Makalaurë's outburst.

Makalaurë, unlike everyone else, was horrified with his loss of composure. By the Valar, he had yelled at his Father for something that wasn't his fault! If there was anyone to blame for his failure, it was himself. He was the one at fault, not his brothers, and certainly not his Father, the Ellon who had patiently tried to teach Makalaurë everything about forging for many decades. He was grateful for his Father, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't forge to save his life and he had hoped his Father would see and understand that. Clearly, his hopes were in vain. He'd tried all that he could to better himself and strove to make his Father proud, but apparently, he hadn't done a good job at it. His Father had shown that today.

In barely a whisper, highly embarrassed and terribly upset with himself, Maglor uttered a small, "I'm sorry." And fled.

The door to the Forge was carelessly flung open, a loud banging noise echoing through the silent building whenever it greeted the warm wall, and the Elves watched as Makalaurë tore the apron off of him and ran out the door, vanishing into the woods.

Nelyo was the first to snap out of his daze, the tall Elf surging forward to chase after his little brother. "Kano!" He called, but was stopped from pursuing him by Fëanaro grasping hold of his arm. Snapping his head down to meet Fëanaro's intense grey eyes, he made to order his Father to let go when Fëanaro spoke,

"Go home." Fëanaro told him, and before Nelyo could object, said, "Let me go to him."

Nelyo silently eyed his Father suspiciously, wondering what Fëanaro had in mind. Could he allow Fëanaro to go after Makalaurë? Wouldn't that make things worse? He knew his Father well, and from what he suspected, Makalaurë probably didn't want to see him for a long while. "Are you sure that's wise, Atto?" Nelyo asked him, sharply, flashing his Father a disapproving look. Fëanaro had the grace to look ashamed, the proud Elf averting his eyes. "Makalaurë wouldn't want to see you. Not after this." He said, jerking his head in the direction of the door. "I should be the one to go after him."

"No." Fëanaro denied, locking gazes with Nelyo, determined to win the argument that was sure to come. Nelyo narrowed his own blue orbs, a hint of steel flashing within them.

"No?" he slowly repeated, casually raising an eyebrow in question.

"No." Fëanaro affirmed, dipping his chin.

Nelyo tipped his head to the side at this, folding his arms across his chest.

Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo warily watched them. Nelyo had become an imposing figure, staring down at their Father the same way a parent would their child if they had misbehaved. Fëanaro was evenly returning the stare, challenging Nelyo.

"He won't want to see you, Atar." Nelyo growled, leaning forward intently, daring their Father to contradict him. "After what you did."

"Look, Nelyo, allow me to-"

"Are you deaf, Atar?" Nelyo cut him off, lowering his arms and spreading his hands out. "He won't want to see you."

"Nelyo, please!" Fëanaro growled out, becoming irritated. "Can't I apologize?"

Nelyo merely shot him an incredulous look. "You must be blind as well."

Fëanaro ground his teeth together. "I beg your pardon?"

"You are blind." Nelyo slowly enunciated each word. "How is it that you didn't notice Makalaurë struggling until now? These past sixty years have been nothing but torture to him. Like Kano said, he was not made for the Forge. He only continued to try forging because he wanted to make you proud, but nothing he did worked. You were constantly lecturing him over every little mistake he made and scolding him for being unable to grasp the basics of forging. Do you know that after every day we spend in the Forge, Kano leaves and doesn't return home till late in the night because he is angry with himself for failing you?"

Fëanaro looked taken aback at this information. "What? Failing me?"

Nelyo sharply nodded. "Yes. You have never shown Kano that you were proud of him at least trying to forge. Do you remember the necklace Ammë received for her begetting day? The one she still wears to this day? And the fused gem you were given for the Winter Festival? The one you fused onto your bracelet?" He asked, gesturing to the large gauntlet-type bracelet Fëanaro had clasped onto his wrist.

"I do..." Fëanaro responded, peering down at the beautiful gem. Running a finger over it, he gave his son a questioning glance. What about those gifts? What was Nelyo trying to tell him?

Nelyo heaved a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. His Father truly did have a thick head. Rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling, Nelyo tore them back down to Fëanaro. "Those were crafted by Kano."

Stunned disbelief was the only thing Fëanaro was capable of after Nelyo had spoken, hardly believing it to be true. His eyes went from the gem back to Nelyo. "Kano...?"

"Yes, Atto. Kano made those." Nelyo assured him, sensing Fëanaro's rising shock. "They weren't gifts that he bought from the market or from Tirion. They were gifts he forged himself, working for hours at night in order to finish them. Remember those days where it was difficult to rouse Kano from sleep?" He rhetorically asked his Father.

Realization dawned over Fëanaro, as well as a surge of guilt. The Ellon never looked away from the gem. He knew exactly what Nelyo was talking about. There were so many days, three years ago, when Kano would never rise from his bed until after the sun had graced the skies with its light. Those were also days Fëanaro would force Kano out of bed and trek with him to the Forge in order to complete a new batch of projects or complete deliveries. Kano had been dead on his feet, but the minstrel had worked hard so that he wouldn't slow the others down. When they were finished, Kano always volunteered to clean up after them and would never return home until the moon had risen to its highest point in the sky.

To think that Kano was sacrificing his time and sleep in order to complete these gifts for his parents. He never once told them either. He didn't tell them that he had made the gem or that he had made the necklace Nerdanel fervently declared to be her favorite.

"It was because of that." Nelyo confirmed Fëanaro's thoughts.

Biting his lower lip, Fëanaro recognized the mistakes that he'd made and all that he had done to Makalaurë. His little Songbird... But, there was one question prominent in the powerful Ellon's mind.

How did Nelyo know this?

Raising his grey orbs, Fëanaro inquired, "How do you know about this, Nelyo? How is it that you know but neither Nerdanel or I did? Kano never said a word..."

Nelyo inhaled and exhaled deeply. "It was because I would watch after him on those nights. Kano is known to be a little clumsy with the tools and other equipment." He explained to his Father, the fires of the Forge making his red hair appear to be burning. "I would hide within the shadows while Kano worked on them, making sure he didn't harm himself. He did, multiple times. If you remember the week Kano was unable to play his harp because he'd injured his hand while mishandling his dagger?"

Fëanaro did. Makalaurë had arrived to the Dining Hall and joined his family in breaking their fast early one morning. It had been Nerdanel who had noticed the sling Makalaurë was wearing and trying to hide underneath his dark robe. His wife had immediately jumped out of her chair and rushed to him, carefully handling his other hand while demanding to know what Makalaurë had done to injure himself.

 _'It was a training incident, Ammë.' Makalaurë had claimed, brushing away his Mother's concerns with a soft smile. Now that he thought about it, Fëanaro could remember catching sight of the frown Nelyo had shot Makalaurë the moment he'd spoken. 'I utilized my dagger incorrectly.'_

 _Nerdanel had looked skeptical. 'And that is why Nalara had it put into a sling?'_

 _'It was a deep cut.' Makalaurë had told her. 'She didn't want me to use it, even for something as simple as playing my harp, and so, she did this.' He had looked genuinely upset by this and his explanation was enough to convince Nerdanel and himself._

 _'Oh, Makalaurë! It doesn't still pain you, does it?' Nerdanel had inquired, worriedly studying his bandaged hand. She delicately cradled it between both of her smaller ones, silently meeting Makalaurë's pained blue orbs._

 _'Not as much as it did before, Ammë." He'd assured her._

"He didn't cut himself, Atto." Nelyo broke into Fëanaro's thoughts. "The accident that gave Kano the injury occurred here, in the Forge, while he was working on your gift."

Fëanaro jerked his head up. "How? What happened?"

Nelyo indicated to some of the heavy equipment they used for crafting Elven blades and other weapons. It was covering one of the tables they used to make jewelry and chains for necklaces or bracelets. "He needed to find silver for Ammë's necklace and to craft your gem." Nelyo started to say, gently touching some of the silver that held the fused gems together. Fëanaro's eyes softened. "He couldn't find it anywhere and believed there might be some stuffed away behind the equipment." Fëanaro had a feeling he knew where this was going. "He found some after removing some of the heavy things out of his way but he didn't notice how unbalanced some of the equipment was. When he moved away, he accidentally bumped into the table."

"Oh Valar..." Fëanaro murmured, feeling as if he knew what had to have happened next.

"He didn't realize until it was too late..." Nelyo winced in remembrance. "Kano had bent down to pick up the silver he had dropped, and that was when he bumped the table. The anvil toppled over and crushed his hand before I could do anything."

Fëanaro's eyes slid shut when he cringed while Curvo, Moryo, and Tyelko's eyes grew large.

"That didn't stop him, though." Nelyo added with another sigh. "He kept going, every night, forcing himself to finish his gifts in time for the Winter Fest. and Ammë's begetting day. His injury put a setback in his plans, and so, he began working during his breaks. After two weeks, he removed the bandage to make it appear to have healed, but in actuality, it took six months."

Fëanaro listened to everything Nelyo was saying, deeply touched by Makalaurë's devotion. He worked, even though he was in plenty of pain, and Fëanaro never noticed. He had turned a blind eye to his second-born, and never once showed Kano that he was proud of any of his achievements. It was no wonder Makalaurë had broken down earlier. To think that he held it in for sixty years.

"Atto," Nelyo spoke up again, bringing Fëanaro out of his thoughts, "If you wish to speak with him..." he hesitated, as if he were about to reveal a big secret. "Then come with me." He cautiously eyed his Father, wondering if he should bring Fëanaro to Makalaurë. It did appear that Fëanaro was truly regretting everything, but would Makalaurë wish to speak with him? Perhaps... Kano could never hold a grudge against anyone for more than three seconds at most.

Fëanaro looked to his son hopefully, wishing to apologize to Makalaurë. "Show me where he is."

And Nelyo did.

They had arrived to find Makalaurë randomly plucking the strings of his harp in his secluded clearing in the woods. He was seated on a large boulder, overlooking a valley of colorful flowers, a far-away look in his eyes.

Of course, Nelyo had hidden himself in the shadows when Fëanaro had approached Makalaurë. He watched them interact, unable to hear the words they spoke, but he could tell from his Father's actions that Fëanaro was asking his son for forgiveness and reassuring him of something. Makalaurë looked relieved and soon enough, the two had reconciled. Fëanaro had crushed Makalaurë in one of his bear hugs and Makalaurë happily returned it, crying out indignantly when Fëanaro ruffled his neatly plaited hair.

* * *

 **~Duplicity~**

Makalaurë and Nelyo had been close, their bond as brothers strengthened by whatever tribulations they went through and all that they would do together. But, Nolofinwë's eldest, Findekano, had grown to become a fine young Ellon. One Makalaurë hated to admit he was jealous of. Ever since Findekano had been little, Nelyo had given him his undivided attention. Makalaurë had learned early on never to bother Nelyo whenever Findekano would come for a visit with Nolofinwë. It was during these lonely days that Makalaurë would leave his Father's home and wander the wilds or travel to Tirion to stay with Finwë. Sometimes, Makalaurë would be spotted with Nolofinwë, conversing pleasantly about whatever subject came about.

It had upset Makalaurë more than he would admit when Findekano would, most of the time unintentionally, steal away Nelyo's attention and leave Makalaurë feeling abandoned and lonely. He never resented Findekano for it, but he was envious. It was an ugly emotion, Makalaurë knew, and he detested the fact that he would feel it whenever Findekano visited.

Today, Makalaurë had decided it would be safe for him to stay away from home for some time. Findekano and Nelyo had tried to invite him to come with them numerous times, but Makalaurë always declined. He hated feeling as if he were imposing on them, and he always felt awkward whenever he went with the two anywhere. They were constantly talking about whatever came to mind, bantering back and forth, and Makalaurë would silently watch them.

Whenever he could, he would slip away unnoticed and try to amuse himself by doing anything to take his mind off of it.

Today was one of those days. Nelyo and Findekano had left to go down to the market and his other brothers, Curvo, Tyelko, and Moryo were out hunting. That left Ambarto and Pityo with Makalaurë. He didn't mind. Ambarto and Pityo always made Makalaurë feel welcomed and included. For example, right now, the two year old Elflings were clutching his legs, their tiny feet on top of his booted ones, laughing brightly whenever they would be raised up into the air every time Makalaurë took a step. Makalaurë's melodious laughter mixed in with their own, the minstrel smiling fondly down at the Elflings. He didn't notice Nerdanel watching him from the balcony nearby, Anairë standing beside her. The two Elleths couldn't contain the smiles that stretched their lips widely whenever Ambarto and Pityo would shriek happily and tighten their grip on Makalaurë. Makalaurë was also enjoying himself, but Nerdanel could see the sadness brewing in his eyes.

She frowned, concerned whenever Makalaurë raised his head up to survey the gates of their home. He released a sigh before returning his attention to the Elflings, who had released him and were now running in circles around him, screeching and giggling hysterically. Makalaurë contentedly watched over them, making sure they stayed within the gates. Word had gotten around that wolves were causing merchants and travelers trouble on the road near his home and Tirion. It was unusual, but nothing any of the Elves were truly too concerned over. Still, Makalaurë was cautious. He knew Curvo, Tyelko, and Moryo were also investigating the increased attacks by these wolves, but had yet to find anything. They had killed many wolves while out on their hunts and had tracked down their homes, but found nothing abnormal about them. Only their behavior was off.

"Ka! Ka!"

Makalaurë shook his head and turned his head down to find Ambarto and Pityo staring up at him with large, pleading eyes, wringing their hands together. Makalaurë raised an eyebrow, dreading what was to come. He knew that look.

Crossing his arms, Makalaurë quietly inquired, "What do you want now?"

Ambarto and Pityo shot him identical puppy dog eyes, one that told Makalaurë that there was something they wanted and were going to do anything in order to get it.

"Ka..." Pityo began, shifting from one foot to the other, "Wanna mar." Ambarto nodded earnestly, pointing to the path that led from their home to the market in the city.

"You want to go to the market?" Makalaurë repeated, watching two heads excitedly bob up and down, the twins bouncing on the balls of their feet.

"Wanna cay!"

Raising both eyebrows at the little pests, Makalaurë parroted, "You want cake?"

"Ya!" Came the enthusiastic response. Four hands clutched his pants leg as two small faces tipped up to look at him. "Pweaze?! We be gud!" They promised.

"Hm..." Makalaurë hummed, unconvinced. They would be good? Who were they kidding? "I don't know, little ones..." He started to say, watching as their expressions crumbled and the twins glimpsed at one another. "Oh, now don't do that!" Makalaurë urged them, unable to handle the looks they were giving him. "Don't give me that look, Ambarussa!"

"Sowwy..." The twins apologized, crushed that they couldn't go to the market for cakes. The two had grabbed each other's hands, providing silent comfort.

Makalaurë pursed his lips together, trying his best not to give in. "Why didn't you ask Nelyo or Findekano to bring back cakes? They did go to the market."

"We nah up wif sun."

"Ah. You weren't awake in time to catch them, hm?"

The twins sadly nodded.

Makalaurë hummed again, watching the twins in the corner of his eye. They looked so heartbroken by the fact that they couldn't go. Biting his tongue, Makalaurë looked away and caught his mother's eye. Nerdanel was smiling knowingly, her eyes twinkling as she watched Makalaurë struggled against the twins' charms.

"Go." She mouthed to him, and Makalaurë furrowed his brow in question. Was it safe enough to take the twins to the market? With the increased activity of the wolves, Makalaurë didn't really want to risk getting attacked with two Elflings. Nerdanel waved her hands in the direction of the gate, nodding her head, silently telling him that it would be alright.

Makalaurë shrugged with an unsure expression, but did as his mother told him to. "Alright, you two," Makalaurë said, crouching down to their height, a difficult feat to accomplish for an Ellon of his height, "Tell you what,"

The twins rushed over at once, beaming eagerly. "Ka?"

The minstrel rolled his eyes at them. "I'll take you to the market," The twins cheered, dancing and spinning around with overwhelming joy. "But," Makalaurë added in a louder voice, snatching their attention. They slowly shuffled back towards him, wondering what else he had to say, "You will have to return home with Nelyo and Findekano."

"No Ka?" They asked, tilting their heads in confusion.

"No." Makalaurë shook his head. "I have something I need to do and I may be back late."

"Oh." The twins frowned severely, pondering over this. "Wan' Ka." They firmly declared.

"I'll be home later." He promised. "I'll be the first person you see in the morning."

Ambarto and Pityo reluctantly agreed to it. After all, they would be able to go to the market and get their cakes!

"Now, you must behave." Makalaurë stressed, standing and scooping the twins up with him. Ambarto and Pityo shrieked and laughed, hugging Makalaurë's neck.

"Luv wou!" The twins happily stated, resting their heads on his shoulders.

"Whatever you say."

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when Makalaurë and the twin arrived to the market. Thankfully, there had been no sign of wolves and the trip was peaceful. The first thing they did was head straight for the bakery and buy the twins the cake they had been wanting to get. Afterwards, Makalaurë and the twins entered the toy shop, where the minstrel bought some learning blocks for the twins. He also bought them some warrior figurines and a couple of horses to play with. The twins were ecstatic and thanked Makalaurë nonstop.

Everyone in the market wore smiles whenever they spotted Ambarto and Pityo dragging Makalaurë behind them, chattering excitedly and pointing at everything they found interesting or that they wanted to see. Makalaurë patiently listened to their incoherent blabbering, nodding whenever he knew he should and humming in an interested manner when they would wave their hands up and down, as if explaining something complicated to him.

Later that afternoon found Makalaurë wandering the marketplace in search of Nelyo and Findekano. Ambarto was on his shoulders and Pityo was being balanced with one arm while the other held the bag filled with the things they had bought. Ambarto scanned the crowds for their brother and cousin from where he was, searching for the familiar shade of red Nelyo was known for. "Ka! Ka!" Ambarto exclaimed, having caught sight of red moving through the crowd. "Nel! Nel!" He pointed in the direction he'd seen the red and Makalaurë swerved round in order to chase after it, hoping his brohters' shouting would catch Nelyo's attention.

He really did need to do something after handing the twins over to his brother.

Thankfully, Pityo's holler grasped Nelyo's attention, the Ellon having been buying a small bag of fruit from a nearby stand, and the Elf immediately headed their way, Findekano in tow.

"Makalaurë!" Findekano greeted. Makalaurë inclined his head in his direction, wisely choosing to keep his mouth shut.

"What are you doing here, Toron?" Nelyo asked, smiling.

That was another thing Makalaurë had noticed. Nelyo smiled a lot more whenever Findekano was around. It was no longer he who could bring out the charming smile Nelyo was also widely known for. Nelyo also laughed a lot more.

Over the past years, Nelyo had grown more bright while Makalaurë became grim and even more lonely. Music was his only constant companion.

He knew it must have been because he was different from the rest of his brothers. He wasn't as strong or courageous as Nelyo; wasn't as skilled as Tyelko was in hunting; wasn't as strategically intelligent as Moryo; and most certainly not as talented in forging as Curvo. They also surpassed him weaponry. Makalaurë was weak and could never bring himself to raise any type of weapon unless he needed to defend himself.

Even then, Makalaurë knew he would be unable to hold his own.

It was no wonder his brothers had lost interest in him and always let him be. He was the black sheep of the family. The only thing he was excelled in was music. Not that that mattered much. There were plenty of musicians all across Valinor who could entertain groups of Elves at Feasts and Festivals.

"The twins wanted cake." Was all Makalaurë offered as an explanation. "And now, you are going to take them home." He added, setting both twins in Nelyo's arms and stepping back.

Nelyo blinked, looking from one twin to the other before raising his gaze to look at Makalaurë. "I am?"

"Yes. I have something I need to do." Makalaurë sharply nodded, keeping his gaze on Nelyo. "I won't be home until late."

"We could stay with you." Nelyo suggested, tilting his head in Findekano's direction. Makalaurë shook his head. There was no way he would tag along with them. They'd only ignore him...

Sorrow gripped at his heart but Makalaurë kept his expression impassive. "No. It will be very late, and the twins need to go to bed."

"But, the wolves-"

"I can handle myself, Nelyo." Makalaurë grumbled, gripping his arm while averting his eyes to stare at the blacksmith's shop. "I'm not helpless, you know."

Nelyo closed his mouth, sharing a concerned glance with Findekano. Nelyo was a little disconcerted. His brother's behavior was most strange, and it only seemed to worsen over the years, but when he tried to talk to Makalaurë or spend time with him, Makalaurë would send him away, claiming that he needed to spend time with Findekano while he was here. And so, Nelyo let him be and did as Makalaurë told him to. He had sensed the sorrow and sudden change in his brother's demeanor occur nearly five years previous and had always wanted to know what had caused it, but his brother would only push him away when he tried to find out.

"I wasn't saying that you were, Kano."

Makalaurë seemed to flinch at the name and Nelyo frowned deeply.

"But you know the saying, safety in numbers." Nelyo continued. "I would rather you return home safely..."

"There haven't been any sightings for three weeks, Nelyo." Makalaurë muttered, stretching his arm in order to tug a stray hair from Pityo's eyes. Pityo yawned widely, snatching Makalaurë's hand.

"Ka ok?" Pityo tiredly questioned, worried that his brother might get hurt.

Makalaurë managed a weak smile. "I'll be fine. Remember," He tapped Pityo's nose, "I did promise that I would be the first one you see in the morning." Then why did he get the strange feeling that he would be unable to fulfill that promise?

"Pwomise?"

"I already said I promised."

"Kay...Home soon."

"Yes." Makalaurë gently agreed, tugging Pityo's small braid, grinning when Pityo snuggled closer to Nelyo. Ambarto had already fallen asleep, two fingers in his mouth as he slept, blissfully unaware of the outside world.

"Kano,"

Makalaurë refrained from flinching again. Kano may have been the childhood name Nelyo had given him, but it no longer felt special to him. Findekano's name also had Kano in it, and Makalaurë wouldn't be surprised if Findekano soon received the privilege of being named 'Kano' by Nelyo. Reluctantly, Makalaurë met his brother's gaze, silently asking him what he wanted.

Nelyo chewed on his lower lip for a moment, studying his younger brother, confused and concerned, but whatever he wanted to tell him went unsaid. "Be careful, then, Toron, and don't come home too late."

Makalaurë dipped his chin, telling Nelyo that he would do his best not to be delayed. Before Nelyo could say anything more, and before Findekano could bid him farewell, Makalaurë spun on his heel and left in a flurry of robes.

"Kano!" Nelyo called, trying to chase after him, but Makalaurë had already blended in with the crowd, vanishing from sight. He slowed to a stop, searching in vain for his brother. It was impossible. There were too many Elves bustling about the marketplace. With slumped shoulders, Nelyo breathed out Kano's name. "I don't understand..." He murmured under his breath, still searching the crowds for his brother. It was of no use. Makalaurë had disappeared.

Findekano stood behind him, troubled by what had transpired. "He's changed." He remarked aloud, giving Nelyo a sideways glance.

"Yes...He has." Nelyo agreed, knowing what his cousin meant. "I don't know what's wrong with him...He never says a word, and when I ask, he tells me he's fine or that it's nothing that should concern me."

"You don't believe him." Findekano more stated than questioned, recognizing the look Nelyo wore.

Nelyo shook his head, red hair slipping over his shoulders and tickling Ambarussa's cheeks. The twins sleepily slapped away the offending braids, snatching them when they refused to let them be. "When someone tells me that it is nothing I should be worried over, I know it is something that should concern me." Nelyo told Findekano. "Especially when that person is Makalaurë. He hardly says a word to me now. He doesn't even speak with our other brothers or Atto. Ammë barely sees him all day unless he helps her with her sculpting. Other than that, he's always gone."

"Where does he go?" Findekano asked, walking alongside Nelyo as the two headed for the entryway of the market. It was high time they returned to Fëanaro's home, especially now that they had the twins with them.

Nelyo shrugged as best he could, his arms full of twins. Findekano had kindly taken hold of the market bags, easing the burden, and for that, Nelyo was most grateful. "No one knows. He just leaves. I tried searching for him before, but I've never found him. Everyone is getting worried that it might be something serious. We don't know what to do. We don't want to chase him away by asking him too many questions, but we also don't want to leave him alone."

"Hm...I see." Findekano thoughtfully rubbed his chin, turning to look over his shoulder one last time before stepping through the gate. He thought he spotted Makalaurë heading for the Blacksmith's but dismissed the thought. Why would Makalaurë go to the Blacksmith's shop when his Father was one of the most renowned smiths in Valinor? If he had need of anything, Fëanaro would be able to help him.

Figuring that it was some other Ellon, Findekano returned his attention to the path before them. It was a long walk back to Fëanaro's home, but it was a pleasant one. The scenery was beautiful and the woods were peaceful. His only worry had to do with the wolves that were known to attack merchants and travelers. Yes, three weeks had passed since the last sighting had been reported, but one couldn't be too careful. There was also a storm coming. Along with the approaching storm, came the dreadful feeling that something terrible was going to happen that night. It was a feeling Findekano found he could not shake, and it started to worry him.

* * *

It was indeed late by the time Makalaurë was finished with the task he'd needed to be done. It wouldn't have taken so long if Makalaurë hadn't gotten carried away by the musicians playing in a nearby tavern. The music was just calling out to him, and Makalaurë felt drawn to the tavern because of it. He had remained there for the rest of their orchestral, enjoying the tiny philharmonic orchestra that was playing. They were a small band of musicians, but no less talented. The only thing he was surprised about was the size of the tavern.

Now, as he was walking down the path leading home, Makalaurë was beginning to regret going alone. It was dark, the moon having hidden itself behind the stormy clouds rolling in.

The forest looked eerie, with the trees casting frightening shadows on the ground whenever lightning would strike. The branches of said trees always looked to be clawing at him, attempting to snatch him and drag him back. The wind howled a haunting tune, clashing with the thunder that would shake the ground beneath his feet. Makalaurë had already slipped a couple of times in the mud, cursing the rain for having soaked it so much.

"I should have gone to the Inn." Makalaurë muttered to himself, rubbing his hands over his arms, trying to warm himself up. His long hair stuck to his face and his clothing clung to his skin. The rain had already chilled Maglor to the bone and his boots- Makalaurë was sure his boots were filling up with water. They felt heavy each time he took a step. It made it harder for him to raise his feet back up again. With the moon hidden, Makalaurë had no way of telling what time it was, but if he were to hazard a guess, he would have to say it was probably passed midnight.

The wind howled again.

"Hmph," Makalaurë gave a lopsided grin, listening as the wind continued it's frightening tune. "That sounded like a wolf."

When those words fled past his lips, Makalaurë came to an abrupt stop, the grin replaced by a troubled frown. Thinking over what he had said, Makalaurë wondered if, perhaps, the wind he'd heard howling hadn't been the wind at all.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Makalaurë immediately banished it. "Impossible." He nervously assured himself, briskly walking forward, forcing one foot before the other. Flicking up the hood of his cloak, Makalaurë tried to ignore the wailing wind but his eyes were constantly roving his surroundings, taking in every detail. Anytime a bush rustled or the trees creaked, Makalaurë would jump and snap his head in its direction. "Quit, Kano. Stop. There is nothing there." He muttered, pressing onward. "Only a few more miles and you will be home again." He encouraged himself aloud. "You're only paranoid."

Was he too paranoid? Or was he not paranoid enough, Makalaurë distantly wondered.

He should've brought a horse. It would've been far easier than trekking through the forest. And less...scary.

He hated to admit it, but Makalaurë was feeling downright nervous about being alone...in the woods...in the middle of the night...unarmed...

"I k-knew I-I sh-should've br-brought so-somethin'" Makalaurë said, his teeth chattering. It wasn't only from the cold, but also from the chilling feeling overcoming him. Something was wrong.

He could sense it.

And he knew exactly what it was.

"Wolves." The moment he said it, Makalaurë was gone. Sprinting as fast as he could, the minstrel found that the howling wind he had been listening to had indeed been a pack of wolves nearest him. Streaking down the path, his feet pounding through the mud and disturbing puddles along the way, Makalaurë overheard another howl.

That one was too close for comfort.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed, lighting up the entire forest, allowing Makalaurë to catch sight of his home a few miles away. Standing for only a few seconds atop the hill he had just climbed in record time, Makalaurë started pleading with the Valar to allow him to arrive home safely. He didn't know how to fight, or how to defend himself, and he certainly did not want to meet a pack of wolves in the middle of night. If there was one thing Makalaurë had feared ever since he was an elfling, it was wolves.

The reason why was because of something that had happened when he had turned fifteen. He was no taller than three feet and Nelyo was four inches short of six feet at the tender age of forty-five. To most Elves, Nelyo would be considered a child, or an adolescent, but he appeared much older because of his height. It was always shocking to Elves when they discovered Nelyo's true age. But Makalaurë found that he liked it. He felt much safer and protected whenever Nelyo was around. His big brother was strong and smart. Ever since he was an Elfling, Makalaurë had idolized his brother. Nelyo was everything he wished he could be, but never would be.

Then one day, tragedy struck the home of Fëanaro. It had been a long and dreary day, and Makalaurë had been waiting for Nelyo and his Father to return home from a trip to the market. Nelyo had promised to bring him his favorite treats and a batch of freshly baked honey cakes, but they were running late.

Late enough that Makalaurë had noticed and was growing worried. Even Nerdanel seemed a little unsettled, having sensed something off earlier.

It felt like forever until Makalaurë finally noticed something. Upon looking closer, he discovered it to be his Father riding at break-neck speed towards the home, cradling something in his arms. There was a look on Fëanaro's face that would forever be etched into Makalaurë's mind, for it was disturbing to see such a look grace the proud Fëanaro's features. It was a mixture of fear, determination, and dread.

There was another thing Makalaurë had noticed immediately.

The blood coating Fëanaro's riding tunic and the bloody figure in his arms.

Without hesitating, Makalaurë shot off to find his mother, urgently shouting for her to come.

It was his brother.

His brother was hurt. Badly.

That was the only thing running through his mind. Nerdanel, having heard his wild calls, had come dashing across the house to see what was wrong, only to find a teary-eyed fifteen year old crying over the fact that his brother was terribly hurt.

Nerdanel, understanding every word Makalaurë babbled to her, broke into a run to the courtyard, meeting Fëanaro right when he rode through the gates, shouting for a couple of Elves to shut them.

Makalaurë, having been forgotten by everyone there, watched as his Father dismounted his steed, still holding a limp and pale Nelyo and ordering for a message to be sent to the Healers. Nalara, who had been in the Courtyard at the time, had rushed to them, firmly telling Fëanaro to lower him to the ground so she could staunch some of the major bleeding. Fëanaro did as told, Nerdanel hovering over his shoulder with her hands pressed over her mouth and tears filling her dark green eyes.

Makalaurë wasn't paying any attention to them, however. He was watching Nelyo.

And Nelyo wasn't moving.

He wasn't doing anything.

And there was so much blood... So much blood stained his clothing and there were rips and tears in his shirt and pants, as if he'd been attacked by some vicious animal. The blood was pooling onto the ground underneath his brother and Makalaurë remembered having been shell-shocked, staring in absolute horror and fear as Nalara worked to stop the bleeding. Nelyo was so pale...His entire face was drained of color, almost grey, and for a split second, Makalaurë had thought his brother was dead.

Big, strong, and smart Nelyo.

His brother who was invincible in Makalaurë's eyes, was now lying here, possibly at death's door, vulnerable and weak.

Nelyo's eyes, which Makalaurë knew to be a warm blue color, were shut. Fëanaro was clutching Nelyo's hand in his own, pleading with Nelyo to open his eyes, to tell him that he was alright...but Nelyo never did.

Nerdanel was sobbing now, begging for the Valar to save her son. Makalaurë only stood there, unable to move. He couldn't.

He barely registered any of the words that were spoken by his parents or Nalara.

"...his pulse..."

"...wolves..."

"Pack...attack..."

Those few words were the only things Makalaurë did understand from their conversation, and he understood everything.

His brother and Father had been attacked by a pack of wolves and Nelyo had ended up being severely injured.

"He tried to warn me..." Fëanaro was saying, attempting to comfort Nerdanel while supporting Nelyo's head in his lap. "I didn't listen...He couldn't take them all..."

"Bleeding's slowing down, but he needs immediate care." Nalara's voice helped Makalaurë to shake himself from out of his daze, but it still didn't keep those ice-cold claws from suffocating his heart as he watched the Healers carefully place Nelyo onto a stretcher and carry him away.

He followed after them, wondering if this was all just a dream. He hoped that he would wake up and discover that it had all been a dream- that Nelyo was here, safe and sound, at home, with him.

But it wasn't.

For days, Makalaurë sat vigil beside Nelyo's bedside. Neither Nerdanel nor Fëanaro left Nelyo's side. Food was brought to them, but neither ate much, despite the Healers' urging. It had scared Makalaurë more than anyone, more than he, realized. Nelyo remained in a comatose state for days from the blood loss. They had been told that Nelyo would live, but the fear that had clutched their hearts remained.

Nearly a week had passed and there was still no change.

Infection after infection, from the wolves' filthy claws and rotten teeth, were cared for by the Healers.

Makalaurë would watch, as if hypnotized, as his brother suffered. Some nights, Nelyo would tremble and shake as if cold, and others, he would mumble incoherently and talk to things unseen by them. Those nights had shaken Makalaurë the most. He became traumatized.

Anytime he overheard the word 'wolf' or even spotted an image of one, he would panic.

A wolf.

A simple creature, had felled his brother. His big, strong, brother. Nelyo was possibly dying because of this dumb animal that had viciously attacked him.

Thankfully, after many tears and days filled with anxiety and pain, Nelyo awoke.

It had to be one of the most memorable moments of Makalaurë's entire life. He remembered, vividly, sitting on the bedside, holding Nelyo's hand whenever his big brother's face had morphed into one of pain. He had been quietly talking to Nelyo, his breath catching every once and a while as he did so. He told him how his day had gone, something new that he had learned, his favorite memories of Nelyo... Whatever came to mind. He would also sing, knowing all of Nelyo's favorite songs. Other times, when he was unable to bring himself to sing, he would hum.

Then he stopped, unable to take it any longer, and started to sob.

He had tried to retract his hand in order to wipe the tears away, but found that he was unable to. Nelyo's hand, which had been limp a few moments previous, had tightened its grip on his, refusing to let him go.

At first, Makalaurë believed it was only because Nelyo was in so much pain, but then he was proved incorrect.

The fifteen year old had pulled his hand away and slipped off of the bed, heading for the door. He couldn't handle it anymore. He needed time alone. He needed somewhere to go where he wouldn't be disturbed so that he could release some of the pent up emotions he'd kept hidden inside.

Right when Makalaurë had extended a hand to turn the doorknob, he thought he heard a small, breathy, whisper call out his name.

"...Ka...no..."

At first, Makalaurë had believed it to be a figment of his imagination, a cruel joke his mind was playing on him, and Makalaurë flung open the door, preparing to flee when another whisper, stronger than the last, carried over to him.

"Kano..."

With widening eyes, Makalaurë had slowly turned around, raising his head to face Nelyo.

Blue eyes met blue and Makalaurë found himself staring at Nelyo in disbelief.

For what felt like a long time, Makalaurë stood there, hand on the doorknob, holding Nelyo's gaze, as if wanting to prove to himself that this wasn't a dream. His brother was lying there, on the medical bed, with his eyes open...one of his hands reaching out towards him...

It had been the happiest moment of his entire life.

And the scariest.

It had shown him that Nelyo wasn't invincible. That something, as dumb as a wolf, could still take Nelyo away from him. It scared him more than anything. Suddenly, those monster stories told to him by the older Elves, weren't so frightening. He no longer quaked or ran to Nelyo or his parents because of them or because his imagination was playing tricks on him.

But say the word 'wolf,' and Makalaurë was out. Even now, Makalaurë hated to hear the word 'wolf.' He didn't react as terribly as he did when he was an elfling, but a shiver of fear would run down his spine and the minstrel would immediately try to take his mind off of the wolf. It was hard. He'd associated the word 'wolf' to those terrible memories. The pain he'd felt then had lessened over the years, as did the fear, but that didn't stop him from being afraid.

Nelyo had always been there for him. Whenever he needed comfort, protection, or company, he could always turn to Nelyo.

But not anymore. Everything had changed since Findekano had grown. Makalaurë was now alone, with no one to turn to. He dared not approach his Father, fearing that he would be rebuffed or looked down upon for his childish fears, and he never said anything to his Mother. He didn't want her to believe that he would be unable to protect her should he ever have need to. His brothers didn't know anything about his fear, and Makalaurë wanted it to stay that way. Only Nelyo knew. He knew because he'd seen how much this wolf attack had shaken him. For several nights, Nelyo had camped in Makalaurë's room, comforting him after a nightmare.

Every now and then, Makalaurë would have another nightmare of that horrifying week, and he would go straight to Nelyo, to ensure that his brother was safe and sound, and sometimes, Nelyo would be awake and offer him some words of comfort and hold him if that wasn't enough.

Sadly, Makalaurë couldn't do that anymore.

How he wished he had Nelyo with him now.

Makalaurë heaved a sigh. This was all stupid. Jealousy was such an ugly and unbecoming emotion to have, yet he couldn't help but feel it. He hated it. He hated that he even felt it! It felt wrong. He should be happy that Nelyo had found someone to confide in... He should be happy his brother had a best friend. One he could trust.

And if that was Findekano, then... Makalaurë would have to learn to live with it. He would remain by Nelyo's side, and support him, for as long as he drew breath.

Maybe, just maybe, he would find someone someday. Someone he could befriend and trust for the rest of his life. Someone he would never have to worry would ever leave him for someone better than he.

* * *

~Fëanaro's Home~

Lightning illuminated Nelyo's room, closely followed by a crash of thunder. The Ellon wasn't rudely awakened by the fierce storm, however, for he had yet to fall asleep. He couldn't bring himself to. He had been too busy thinking about his brother.

All of the thoughts cramming his mind had to do with Makalaurë.

Something was wrong with him, he could sense it. Something had changed in Makalaurë and Nelyo found that he didn't like this change. This wasn't Makalaurë. He missed his brother. He missed Makalaurë, and he knew his brothers and parents felt the same. The only ones who were capable of bringing out a little of the old Makalaurë were the twins. Makalaurë also held onto the twins, as if they were some sort of saving grace.

They hardly saw Makalaurë now. He was always gone, never to be seen for hours or days on end. Sometimes, he would leave to visit Finwë in Tirion for a few weeks, come back, then vanish again. No one knew why.

Their mother had been growing worried, unsettled by her Songbird's abnormal behavior. He would sit in her sculpting shop for a long while, often lending a hand whenever Nerdanel needed help, but that was the most she was ever able to interact with him now.

He never even came to family dinners.

Even Fëanaro was concerned. Their Father had started watching out for Makalaurë, keeping a close eyes on him ever since he stopped playing and singing for the family. He would strum on his harp every once in a while, but he no longer sang with it. He always seemed preoccupied or upset. His music testified to that, the songs dull and empty of any feeling. He was silent, only speaking when he needed to, but whenever he did, he went straight to the point and never said more than a few sentences. He was curt, quiet, and as stealthy as a shadow. There were times when Nelyo believed Makalaurë possessed the power to appear and disappear at will, for he would always materialize out of nowhere when everyone was least expecting it.

It would only worsen whenever Findekano would come-

Nelyo's eyes snapped open, the Ellon bolting upright in his bed when the thought struck him.

Was that it? Was it because of Findekano?

Now that he thought about it, it made sense. All of those times Makalaurë would brush Findekano off and give him the cold shoulder, Makalaurë slipping away unnoticed when he or Findekano would invite him to accompany them somewhere, his vacations to Andatar that coincided with the times Findekano visited...

Nelyo leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands. But why was that? What was it that Makalaurë held against Findekano? Today, in the market, Nelyo had suggested that he and Findekano would have waited for Makalaurë to finish whatever he'd needed to do, but Makalaurë had immediately declined, his gaze flickering over to Findekano with a gleam in his eye...

One that spoke of dislike and...

Jealousy?

Could it be...? Was Makalaurë jealous and upset with Findekano for something? Had...

Nelyo swallowed.

Had Findekano, perhaps, done something to Makalaurë that his little Kano had taken personally? Was that why Makalaurë had been avoiding him? Was he upset that Nelyo was good friends with Findekano because of that?

Casting aside his covers, Nelyo slipped out of his bed and made for his bedroom door, intent on discovering if this was what had been bothering Makalaurë for the past few years.

From what he knew, Makalaurë had been keeping everything to himself. He had been holding it within, and that was a dangerous thing to do.

The only question Nelyo had was why Makalaurë hadn't come to him. Why hadn't Makalaurë sought him out if anything had happened?

Before Nelyo could even leave his room, the door opened and two tiny figures shuffled inside, their small feet hardly making a sound.

Nelyo blinked, staring down at the twins inquisitively. What were they doing here?

"Ambarussa?"

"Nel..." Ambarussa chimed, raising their heads to give Nelyo a frightened look. "Scawy sto'm." They whimpered and flinched violently when a loud crack of thunder echoed through the sky.

Nelyo kindly smiled down to them, crouching lowly and scooping them up into his arms. Ambarto and Pityo clung to him, trembling in barely suppressed fear and burying their faces in his shoulder. "Why aren't you with Kano, Ambarussa?"

It was a valid question. Normally, during storms such as these, Ambarto and Pityo would seek comfort from Makalaurë. The twins could always be found snuggled up beside the minstrel after severe storms, content and sleeping peacefully while tucked against his side. So, why hadn't they gone to Kano? Why come to him?

"No home." Pityo answered, gasping when a bright flash of lightning filled the room and the thunder boomed in response. Ambarto inhaled sharply, tightening his grip on Nelyo's nightshirt.

"What?"

"Ka no home." Ambarto said for his brother, releasing a tiny shriek of alarm when the thunder bellowed once more.

It only took a second for the twins words to seep into Nelyo's mind, and when they did, the Ellon had left his room and burst into Kano's.

An empty room greeted Nelyo from where he stood in the doorway. The bed was still neatly made, no sign of Makalaurë ever having slept in it that night and there was no minstrel anywhere.

"Kano?" Nelyo called, making sure Makalaurë wasn't in his room.

No voice answered his call, only silence.

"See," Pityo piped up again, gesturing to the room, "No home."

"Yes..." Nelyo slowly agreed, his mind whirling with panicked thoughts. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Why wasn't Kano here?

Makalaurë had said he would be home late that night, and he usually kept his word, but if Makalaurë still wasn't home and it was past two in the morning...

Nelyo made a split second decision and rushed into Curvo's chambers. "Curvo!"

His powerful voice jerked the second to youngest son of Fëanaro awake. "What the-?! What?! Something happen? Nelyo?" Curvo sputtered, shooting into a sitting position in his bed, turning his head to face his elder brother. "What's wrong?" He concernedly asked, catching the expression Nelyo wore when the storm's lightning lit up his room. He also noticed that Nelyo held the twins and that they looked quite scared. "What is it?" Curvo demanded to know, untangling himself from his sheets and getting out of bed, his worry rising when Nelyo basically shoved the twins into his arms, hardly offering him any explanation for his rush.

"Watch over the twins. I'm leaving."

"What?" Curvo asked, utterly lost. He chased after Nelyo when his brother strode out of his room, heading straight for Tyelko's. "Nelyo! What are you doing? What's going on?"

"I'll explain later," Nelyo curtly replied, pushing open Tyelko's door, "Right now, take care of the twins. Tyelko! Get up!"

Tyelko's reaction to having been woken so abruptly was similar to Curvo's, only less...refined. The golden-haired Ellon had been terribly startled and tumbled out of his bed onto the cold, hard, floor.

"Ai! Varda's name, Nelyo! What is wrong with you?!" The hunter exclaimed, rubbing his arm, shooting Nelyo a dark glare.

"Get dressed, and bring your bow." Nelyo ordered, turning sharply and leaving the room.

"What?" Tyelko hissed out through clenched teeth, pained. Looking to Curvo, Tyelko raised an eyebrow in question, hoping his younger brother may have the answers he was searching for.

There was no such luck. The only thing he received was a confused shrug and Curvo telling him to hurry and do as Nelyo had ordered. Tyelko wasted no time in doing so.

When he had dressed and entered the hall to find Nelyo, he discovered that Nelyo had awoken Moryo and had also commanded that he get dressed and bring his sword. Moryo appeared just as lost as Tyelko and Curvo was, and as nervous.

Their brother had that look in his eyes, the one that told them that something was seriously wrong.

Something had to be terribly wrong if Nelyo had ordered them to bring their weapons.

But, Tyelko distantly wondered, searching the corridors of their home, where was Makalaurë? Why hadn't Nelyo gotten him up?

"Nelyo, what's going on?" Curvo finally asked, tired of Nelyo deflecting his questions. "What's wrong?"

"That's something I would also like to no, Nelyo." Moryo muttered darkly, clearly having not appreciated being rudely awakened in two in the morning. "What has gotten into you?"

Nelyo, who had his back turned to them, exhaled deeply. "Makalaurë's gone."

This had an immediate response.

" **What**?"

Three voices lowly demanded. Moryo stepped forward, his expression fierce. "What do you mean, gone?"

"He never came home last night."

The three brothers shared a look, Tyelko's knuckles turning white from gripping his bow too tightly. "Say he decided to stay at an inn?" Curvo pointed out, a little hopefully. He didn't want to suddenly jump to the conclusion that Makalaurë may have been in any danger.

"No. Makalaurë walked. I know he did, and he must've run into trouble." The way Nelyo had spoken, the tone he'd used, told the brothers that Nelyo knew something they didn't.

"What is it, Nelyo?" Tyelko inquired, stepping closer to him.

"What did you find while out hunting this morning?" Nelyo asked in return, rotating round to face them. His gaze was severe, ordering his brothers to tell him the truth about their hunt. He knew his brothers had discovered something important, and he needed to tell them if what he suspected was true.

Tyelko, Curvo, and Moryo nervously looked to one another. "The wolves have been getting more active...we found a couple of their lairs. They were abandoned, but had recently been used by a large pack." Curvo answered, breaking the uneasy silence that had settled over them. "We suspected that they would probably begin attacking soon, now that their numbers had grown. The last three weeks had to be the wolves taking a break since so many of their kind had been slain by our hunters."

After he'd finished speaking, dread overcame them. "You don't think..."

"No..." Tyelko breathed out in disbelief, eyes sliding shut. "Idiot!" He growled, earning a few bewildered glances.

"Tyelko?" Moryo tapped his arm in question, Nelyo turning and striding towards him.

"What is it, Tyelko?" Nelyo wanted to know.

"Earlier today, in the evening, before the storm hit," Tyelko began, running a hand down his face, "I thought I'd heard wolves howling, but I dismissed it as being the wind. Nelyo," He raised his head, a serious expression etched into his features, "I know it wasn't the wind." He worriedly admitted.

Nelyo pursed his lips together. "I thought the same." He muttered angrily, fingers curling tightly into a fist. "While Findekano and I were walking home from the market, I had thought I overheard a wolf howling..."

Moryo shot forward, grabbing Nelyo's arm, "We have to go now, Nelyo! If Makalaurë is out there, and those wolves are out there...He doesn't stand a chance! Those wolves are starving. They haven't eaten in days! They're wild." The dark Elf quickly said, a sharp blast of fear surging through him as he thought about the possibility that his elder brother was out in the storm, with a pack of wolves hunting him down...

If they hadn't already.

"Nelyo!" A new voice called to them, and the brothers turned to see Findekano jogging towards them, dressed and with Elven knives strapped on his back. He panted lightly, clearly have run the entire distance between the Guest chambers to the Family Corridor. "I sensed something amiss, and I know it has something to do with Makalaurë." He informed them, studying the fearful expressions gracing each of their faces. "I came to accompany you in your search for him."

Nelyo curtly nodded. "We could use all of the help we can get."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Tyelko bolted away. "Let's go!"

Moryo and Nelyo didn't need to be told twice. They ran after him, with Findekano in tow, leaving Curvo to comfort the twins. The young Elf bent down and drew Ambarto and Pityo close to him, offering them whatever comfort he could provide. As much as he wanted to go after his brothers, to find Makalaurë, he knew someone needed to stay with the twins.

The only thing he was worried about, was the possibility that they were already too late.

Images of a bloodied and lethally wounded, or dead, Makalaurë filled Curvo's mind, causing his fear to spike up another few notches. The other worry was how they would break the news to their parents...

"Please, Eru, let them find Makalaurë safe..."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _ **Okay, so this is a loooooong chapter. I figured giving some events from Maglor's childhood might be interesting, so I wrote a few things. The next chapter will include a few more events from Maglor's past then continue on to the actual story. I hope you don't mind :)  
I'm already working on the next chapter, so it should be up soon! **_


	8. Maglor's Past Pt2

**As promised, here is the next chapter! I really don't like my style of writing, but I hope it's alright for you guys. I've always wanted to write a story like this, because I didn't like the fact that Maglor suffered so much from something as dumb as the Silmarils. It always seemed unfair to me, and I loved Maglor's character, even though I never read the Silmarillion. I know I've made a bunch of mistakes, and I'm sorry. I still haven't gotten far into the book...and I really should start reading it. Hopefully, you'll still enjoy this story!**  
 **Please, if you find any mistakes, tell me! And don't be afraid to leave any constructive criticism. It helps a bunch!**

* * *

 _ **~Maglor's Past~**_

~The woods~

"Nelyo!" Tyelko shouted over the screeching wind, sloshing through the mud in an attempt to keep up with Nelyo's determined pace. "What do we do? How do we find Makalaurë?!"

Nelyo didn't stop moving, forcing his brothers and Findekano to fight to keep up.

Findekano was a little ways behind them, leading a horse by its reins through the muddy path. He had thought it would be a good idea to bring one just in case they needed an emergency transport for Makalaurë, which, he figured, they would most definitely need. Judging from the feeling that he had...Findekano just knew that Makalaurë would have to be rushed back to Fëanaro's home in order to be treated.

"We keep going down the path!" Nelyo hollered back. "There's only one path that leads to and from the market! Makalaurë must be somewhere on it!"

"Should we split up and search!?"

"NO!" Nelyo instantly barked back. He wouldn't take that chance. There was a possibility he could lose one of them to the wolves, and that was one chance Nelyo wasn't willing to take. "It's too dangerous! We don't know how many wolves are out here or where they can be! We need to stick together!" He loudly called in return, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the heavy rain. His cloak and clothing were already soaked, but Nelyo didn't allow that to slow him down. He continued, because he knew Makalaurë needed him, and he wasn't going to let Makalaurë down.

Tyelko ran ahead of him, sharp eyes roving the ground for any tracks. He stopped a few meters ahead of Nelyo, quickly bending down and running a hand over the muddy ground.

"Makalaurë never made it this far... The rain makes it difficult to tell, since it washed away most of the tracks, but the path is muddy enough that if anyone or anything passed through, it would leave a faint mark." He said aloud, briefly meeting Nelyo's gaze. "There are none."

Nelyo sharply nodded, thankful that he had brought Tyelko along, and continued down the path. Findekano jogged beside him, after making sure that his steed would stay where it was. "I brought a couple of lanterns, in case we find him, but I do not think it wise to use them now."

"Nay," Nelyo agreed, "It would only attract attention. And if what Moryo claims about the wolves is true, we don't want to take any risks in being discovered by their pack." His heart pounded against his chest while he spoke. Nelyo continuously searched for anything that might help them find Makalaurë, or at least give a clue as to where he might be.

He knew about Makalaurë's fear of wolves, and that was another thing that pushed Nelyo to try harder. He didn't know how Makalaurë would react should he run into a wolf. Would he freeze up, terrified by the fact that there was a wolf, or, would he try to run? Would he try to fight it? Maybe, just maybe, Makalaurë was still safe and unharmed. It was unlikely, but Nelyo wanted to believe that Makalaurë was fine- that he was only hiding from the wolves.

His hopes were crushed by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Several footsteps.

Tyelko had already whipped out his bow, an arrow notched on the drawn back string. Letting his arrow loose, Tyelko cried out, "Wolves!"

A yelp confirmed his cry, and a wolf pierced with an arrow, fell heavily on the ground a few feet in front of them.

Another wolf leaped high into the air, jaw agape, sailing towards Nelyo. Metal swiped through the air as Nelyo unsheathed his blade and slashed through the starving wolf. The wolf was dead in an instant, it's body crashing into a tree meters away. Moryo and Findekano whipped out their own blades, attacking the other wolves that came charging towards them.

"Circle round!" Nelyo ordered over the sounds of snapping teeth and savage growls. Moryo stepped back to stand behind Nelyo, Tyelko and Findekano to his left and right, and the horse in the center. The Elves kept their eyes sharp, the lightning aiding them in discovering the wolves location and fought in sync, each watching the other's back. They made sure the wolves couldn't break through their circle and attack the horse.

Thankfully, Findekano's steed was trained to protect his master and was fiercely loyal to him. Said horse was already angrily snorting at the wolves and stomping his hooves into the ground as a warning. If any wolf dared come near him or injure his Master, they would pay.

"Tyelko! To your left!" Moryo shouted, relieved when Tyelko dodged a wolf lunging towards him. With quick movements, Tyelko whipped back around and stabbed through its skull with a sharp arrow.

The wolf died instantly.

"Your right, Moryo!"

Moryo gracefully spun underneath another wolf, slicing its stomach while doing so. Findekano easily kept up with the wolves, his sword whipping from side to side, effortlessly cutting down the hungry wolves. He heard the sound of bones crunching and snapping when his steed trampled one wolf to death and kicked another.

Pained yips and yelps filled the air as the wolves were cut down, or beaten down, one by one.

Nelyo cut through the incoming pack without breaking a sweat, scowling darkly. If these wolves had done anything to Makalaurë, he would make sure they paid in full.

"AI! Cursed _beast!_ " Nelyo overheard Moryo exclaim, pain lacing the words he spoke when a wolf managed to pass through his defenses and claw his arm.

"Moryo?"

"I'm fine, Nelyo!" Moryo snapped, his pain making his tone sharper than intended. "Stupid _creatures_!" He lashed out, cutting one wolf's leg off and stabbing it through the head when it fell. With a dark scowl, Moryo switched his attention to the next wolf, daring it to move.

It did, but it was too late for it to turn tail and run when it realized it's mistake the moment Moryo ran it through with his blade.

Findekano grunted when a wolf scraped its claws down his arm, grimacing from the sharp, momentary, pain it had caused. "There are too many!" He called out, barely dodging another wolf threatening to bite his hand off.

His horse took care of that one.

Nelyo's lips thinned, his expression darkening as he took in how many wolves were left. "There are only a few more!"

He encouraged his brothers and Findekano to hold their ground, allowing the wolves to come to them. The wolves were dumb enough to do so and were efficiently cut down by the four Elves. Neither of them moved even an inch out of the circle, and when one moved, the others shifted in order to accommodate the movement.

Swords sang as they were swung through the air, the Elves skillfully slaying the creatures without a second thought.

Once through, the Elves remained in their circle formation for a moment longer, waiting to see if there were any other wolves lingering in the darkness.

Nothing.

"Tyelko," Nelyo broke the tense silence, "Shoot an arrow between those trees." He commanded, pointing his sword in three different direction.

"Got it." Raising his bow and notching an arrow, Tyelko waited a split second then fired. The arrow whistled as it flew through the air, followed by two others.

Nothing happened.

Nelyo didn't drop his guard just yet, eyes surveying the woods surrounding them. It was a bit difficult to see, even with their Elven sight, since the trees practically blocked most of the light the storm provided. "Findekano, would you light the lanterns you brought?"

"Of course." Findekano set to doing his task immediately, lighting up the lanterns as fast as he could.

An eerie golden glow emitted from the lanterns, lighting up everything around them. The Elves squinted against the sudden brightness, taking a moment to adjust their eyesight. The woods looked far creepier than they had before, they found, feeling a little uneasy.

"Right. Makalaurë must be somewhere nearby." Nelyo uttered softly, a tinge of fear seeping into his voice. It was barely noticeable, but all of the Elves heard it. The tall red-head started walking down the path, in the hopes of finding Makalaurë. He couldn't be too far from them now.

He was stopped when Moryo called out to him.

"Nelyo!" The dark Elf hesitated for a moment, then slowly said, "You may want to see this."

A little nervous, Nelyo turned back around to find Moryo crouched beside one of the fallen wolves, studying the corpse with dark eyes. He was tense and a little fearful, telling Nelyo that whatever he had found wasn't good.

"What is it?" Nelyo inquired, striding over to where his brother was. Peering over Moryo's shoulder, he found a long, shaky cut marring the wolf's side. A cut made by an Elven dagger. "What of it?" Nelyo asked his brother. Why would Moryo call him over to study the wolf's injury? It was clearly slain by one of their own.

Unless...

Moryo's eyes flickered up to meet Nelyo's. "Nelyo, this wolf was already injured before I killed it. I noticed the limp it had when it attacked..."

Nelyo's heart began to sink when he slowly started to understand what Moryo was saying.

"That wound wasn't given to the wolf by any of us..." Moryo finished, his voice low and foreboding.

"Makalaurë." Tyelko breathed in horror. "Stars above..."

"No..." Nelyo shook his head, and without thinking, spun around and bolted down the path. He needed to find Makalaurë. He needed to know if Makalaurë was alive. He couldn't be dead! It was impossible! These wolves couldn't have taken Makalaurë from them. His brother couldn't have fallen.

Fears of what he might find started to fill Nelyo's mind as he ran, never pausing to take a break and catch his breath.

The three other Elves chased after him, with Findekano and Tyelko holding the lanterns and Findekano's horse galloping beside his master. They didn't know what to expect, but Moryo was beginning to believe that they were going to find a bloodied Makalaurë who was too wounded to live or who was already dead.

No one would have been able to fight off all of those wolves. Even when Moryo and his two other brothers fought a pack of wolves, it was difficult. They would barely escape unscathed. What condition would Makalaurë be in when they found him? Would he have already breathed his last breath? Would he still be alive?

Unable to shake these morbid thoughts from his mind, Moryo forced himself to run faster. If his brother was dying... Moryo wanted to be with him. He didn't want his brother to die alone or without saying some of the things he'd always wanted to tell his elder brother but never could bring himself to. It just wasn't him. He could never tell his brothers or parents that he loved them, or compliment them whenever they did something amazing. It wasn't in his nature. He was a dark, brooding Elf who enjoyed keeping things to himself. He wasn't outgoing, wasn't as bright as his brothers, but Moryo didn't care. He still loved his brothers and would do anything for them. He had always wanted to protect them when he was an Elfling...

Yet, he'd been unable to protect Makalaurë. He had always hoped that if his brothers ever needed help that he could be there. Moryo may never show it, but he wanted to know if Elves were ever grateful for him; if they accepted him. Mostly his brothers and parents. He wanted to know if they appreciated him for everything he was and if they loved him despite how he was.

He knew his brothers didn't know this, and that was why hearing them compliment him or letting him know that he was appreciated and cared for was special to him. He never smiled whenever they did, but he hoped they knew. He hoped they could see. He didn't understand how his brothers could accept him for who he was, but they did. It was why Moryo always wanted to be there for them.

But, he'd failed Makalaurë. All of these years Makalaurë had been there for him and this was how he repaid him. He'd let him down. He wasn't there when Makalaurë may have needed him most.

'Please, Valar,' Moryo found himself praying, 'Spare Makalaurë. Let him yet live.'

* * *

Findekano didn't know how long they had been running, but he knew it couldn't have been for long. Being the slowest of the four, Findekano lagged behind a little. Thankfully, he never lost sight of Tyelko or Moryo. His horse remained by his side, never moving any faster than he was.

He could tell how determined Moryo and Tyelko were in finding their brother, and how scared. Findekano recognized the look of fear dancing behind their eyes. It was the same fear he had seen in his own Father's eyes when Turukano fell down a flight of stairs and knocked himself out for three days. It was also the same fear that his Father would show whenever Irissë had gone missing in the marketplace in Tirion. This fear, though, was also a little different.

It was a fear of the unknown.

The brothers didn't know if Makalaurë still lived or what condition he would be in, and Findekano found that he was also afraid. He may not know Makalaurë all too well, but when he was an Elfling, he had respected the minstrel greatly. Makalaurë had always been kind to him...and then he changed. He wasn't the Makalaurë he once knew, and Findekano didn't know what had caused that change. He knew it upset Nelyo greatly, seeing as he had once been close to Makalaurë. There wasn't a day that passed when Findekano visited in which Nelyo didn't talk about his brothers -mostly Makalaurë- or ramble on about some of the accomplishments they'd made. Findekano always enjoyed listening to Nelyo whenever he would talk about his brothers since he never did get much of an opportunity to befriend them. Nelyo deeply cared for all of his brothers and always brightened whenever he talked about them. He would talk about all of the fun and chaos the brothers would wreak about the house and how they always drove their parents crazy with the stunts they would pull.

He would talk about his and Makalaurë's elflinghood and how Makalaurë had helped him through a lot. Not many Elves knew about Nelyo's insecurities whenever he was an Elfling, or how lonely he would feel, even when he was surrounded by a bunch of other Elflings his age or older. He was different because of his height and intellect. Makalaurë was always the one who put Nelyo at ease with his worries. He gave Nelyo the company he'd been seeking, had been there even when Nelyo believed he didn't want anyone around, and provided him with silent comfort, all the while oblivious to the fact that he was helping Nelyo immensely. He had accepted and adored his elder brother for who and how he was.

Findekano recalled the times Nolofinwë would speak about Nelyo and Makalaurë. He had said that their bond as brothers was the strongest he'd ever seen. Makalaurë had been attached to Nelyo ever since he was an infant and whenever he wanted someone, it was always Nelyo. They had been close, helping one another through difficult times and being there when they knew one needed comfort...

But, now, that was gone.

Makalaurë no longer sought out Nelyo or stuck with him. Findekano knew that it had hit Nelyo hard when Makalaurë started to drift further away from him and withdraw into himself. He barely spoke now, unless he had something he needed to say. He was hardly ever seen as well. Nelyo had started to think that it had something to do with himself, but couldn't figure out what he could have possibly done. Findekano had tried assuring him that he'd done nothing wrong, but Nelyo couldn't accept that. He had to have done something for Makalaurë to be acting this way. Findekano himself was at a loss. He could see the change in Makalaurë. He could see how this change affected the family, especially the brothers. There seemed to be an imbalance between them now, and none of them were coping with it.

Valar, if Makalaurë were to die tonight...how would that affect them?

It would destroy Nelyo and the brothers if they were to lose him. Makalaurë was like their rock, the foundation they built themselves off of, just like Nelyo was their protector and their leader. He was what tied the brothers together, Findekano knew. He always seemed to balance things out. He encouraged them no matter what, accepted them for who they were, and, most of all, he believed in them. The brothers had a deep respect to him and constantly turned to him whenever they had any trouble.

Findekano remembered a time from when he was a tiny Elfling and had failed one of the big tests his tutor had given him. He couldn't understand how and had felt terribly ashamed of himself. As an Elfling, this was a horrid ordeal, and of course, he had blown the entire thing out of proportion. Unable to accept his failure, Findekano had broken down in the gardens and cried. Makalaurë, who had been visiting Finwë with his family, had been the one to find him. The minstrel had patiently listened to the Elfling's over dramatic rant about how he was a failure and a disappointment to his Father all because he had flunked a test. Once he was through, Findekano had been exhausted and Makalaurë started to tell him about how he wasn't a failure; that if he put his mind to it, he could accomplish anything. He had reassured Findekano that his Father would still love him even though he had failed and that he was still proud of him. He had even gone out of his way to help Findekano to study for the test again, helping him to understand what he didn't before.

It was a small thing, but to Findekano, it meant a lot. Makalaurë had helped him to believe in himself and had spent hours studying with Findekano when he could have just gone and left him to figure it out on his own. It was one of the reasons Findekano had grown to become more confident in himself and his abilities. He no longer allowed any of his failures to drag him down. It made him work harder, all because of those simple words Makalaurë had spoken to him decades prior.

He wondered if Makalaurë remembered that day.

Would he be given an opportunity to thank Makalaurë?

Oh, he did so hope they found Makalaurë alive.

It was Nelyo's cry that snapped Findekano from his thoughts and the eldest son of Nolofinwë jerked his head up in alarm.

" _Makalaurë_!"

He skidded to a stop just before running into Moryo's back. Looking from Tyelko to Moryo, Findekano caught sight of the horrified look gracing their features. Slowly, a little fearfully, Findekano moved his gaze from the brothers to look ahead of them. What was he going to see? Would he catch sight of Makalaurë's bloodied body lying, abandoned, in the mud? Would he see how badly wounded Makalaurë was because of the wolves?

What he found made Findekano's stomach twist and turn, and nearly become sick.

There was blood staining the path- a lot of blood- and pieces of torn fabric here and there. There were nine dead wolves lying about, and Findekano felt faint surprise at the fact that Makalaurë had been able to take down that many despite being greatly outnumbered and with only a dagger as a weapon. If he remembered correctly, Makalaurë was no warrior. He didn't train with the sword or bow like his brothers and that was why he only knew how to wield a dagger.

To think he'd felled this many with nothing but a dagger.

What made Findekano's heart clench was the sight of Nelyo fallen to his knees in the muddy ground, shakily clutching a familiar, blood-stained, dagger in his hands. The look in his eyes and the utter grief and fear that Nelyo didn't bother to hide broke Findekano's heart. Moryo and Tyelko had similar expressions marring their features, recognizing the signs of battle and the struggle Makalaurë had had fighting against the wolves.

There was no sign of Makalaurë anywhere.

Nelyo, near-panic and in denial, frantically scoured the area around them. "Tyelko, Moryo," Nelyo's voice was weak and he forced it to be stronger. Tyelko and Moryo slowly, as if in a daze, looked to him. There was hope shining in their eyes, but that hope was slowly drifting away. "Find him...Find Makalaurë."

They barely managed a nod, Moryo heading to Findekano's right and Tyelko to his left. Their movements were slow, almost forced, as if they were afraid of what they might find.

"He...He has to be here..." Findekano heard Nelyo whisper to himself, eyes darting about. "Somewhere..."

He felt great sadness overtake him as he joined the search, moving past Nelyo to see what he could find. It didn't take him long to notice something odd near the edge of the path. The mud had been swept away, almost as if something had been dragged across and into the woods.

His heart sank, his fingers brushing along the ground, following the tracks. He wasn't a skilled tracker or hunter, but he knew what those marks in the mud meant.

"They took him."

Findekano flinched violently when he heard Nelyo speak. Craning his neck, Findekano found Nelyo standing just behind him, the lanterns casting his face in the shadows so that he couldn't see the look on his face, but his hands trembled and his body quaked.

Findekano sensed the anguish and pain the brothers were feeling. The complete and utter sorrow that gripped their hearts.

Moryo released a guttural cry, casting down his blade and grasping a handful of wet hair in his hands, bowing his head so that no one could see the tears streaming down his face.

He had failed, just as he had feared.

Tyelko was too stunned to move or even make a sound. He blinked, as if he were unable to understand or wrap his mind around this. He had loosened his hold on his bow, eyes open but unseeing.

Findekano wasn't sure how Nelyo was feeling. It was difficult to tell from the blank look that he wore.

"He has to be alive..." Moryo mumbled to himself. "He can't be gone...He can't be..."

No one said anything.

Findekano watched as Tyelko reached out to Moryo, embracing his brother tightly. Moryo dropped his head against Tyelko's shoulder, slumping against his brother as he tried to make sense of the fact that Makalaurë was most likely dead.

Nelyo sluggishly made his way towards them, Fëanaro's eldest gathering both of them in his arms. Tyelko and Moryo clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as they valiantly fought back tears.

Findekano squeezed his own shut, looking away. They had come all this way in the hopes of finding Makalaurë, only to find that he was no longer there. He was gone.

Bowing his head, Findekano murmured a small prayer beneath his breath, resting a hand over his heart. His greatest fear had come to pass.

"He's not dead..." Moryo mumbled, voice muffled by Nelyo's tunic. Nelyo tightened his grip on his brother, understanding how Moryo felt, for he felt the same way. He couldn't accept that Makalaurë was gone. "He's not...I know he's not!"

"Moryo," Tyelko softly uttered, reaching out to his brother, but Moryo shoved himself away.

"No! Don't ' _Moryo'_ me!" The dark Elf hissed, pointing a threatening finger towards his brother. "I know he's not! He can't be! He's still out there, we just need to find him!"

"Moryo," Nelyo quietly spoke, gently grabbing hold of his younger brother's arm, "If we do find him...we don't know..."

"You think I don't understand that?" Moryo growled. "You think I haven't thought about it either? How Makalaurë might look? If he's near death or maybe that he's dead? I know!" He breathed harshly, running his fingers through his wet hair as he tried to calm himself. "And if that's the case, I want to be with him! I have to...I have to see him."

Nelyo calmly studied Moryo, seeing the determination blazing in his dark eyes. They wouldn't be able to talk him out of this.

"But I know he's alive! If he'd died, we would've felt it!"

Nelyo and Tyelko started slightly. It was true...Their bond as brothers was stronger than any other, that if one of them fled to the Halls of Mandos, the others would have felt it.

Why hadn't they thought of that before? They had been fretting over the fact that Makalaurë was probably dead, or near-death that they had completely forgotten about their bond.

Tyelko immediately turned to Nelyo, conviction dancing within his own blue orbs. "We have to find him, Nelyo. Moryo's right, I can sense Makalaurë still lives."

Findekano felt hope grow within him. Perhaps there was still time.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Moryo demanded to know. "We need to find him! Now!"

He needn't say another word, for the brothers were now off scouting the area, searching for any signs or tracks that might tell them where Makalaurë was. Findekano joined the search without hesitation, keeping the lamp raised high before him in order to see the muddy ground.

There were so many wolf tracks, but if he looked closely, he could see the light footprints he knew to be Makalaurë's. So, he battled the wolves here.

Tyelko studiously analyzed the path, creeping forward or shuffling backwards as he followed whatever tracks he'd found. Moryo, who held the second lamp, wandered into the forest surroundings them, stalking forward a few meters before doubling back and setting off in another direction, frowning deeply.

Nelyo had moved further ahead of them, checking to see if Makalaurë had, perhaps, fled in the direction of the market. The only footprints he found, however, were facing his direction, meaning Makalaurë had never turned back. Or never had the chance to.

"I don't understand." Tyelko muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. The brothers and Findekano looked to find him crouched down on the edge of the path, scratching the back of his head in confusion. "The tracks lead here and then vanish."

"Vanish?" Nelyo repeated, his brow crinkling as he moved to see what his brother was talking about.

"Look," Tyelko backtracked a few steps, pressing one of his fingers into the mud beside a small print the shape of a boot. "Makalaurë was here, and then," He sidled forwards a few inches, "He goes here," and closer to the edge Tyelko shifted, pointing out every one of Makalaurë's footprints he managed to spot with his sharp eyes. "but then, as soon as you reach here, they're gone." He finished, bewildered, extending his arms in the direction of the trees in front of them.

Nelyo bit his lip. How odd. What Tyelko said was true. Makalaurë's footprints reached the very edge of the path then seemingly disappeared, as if Makalaurë had suddenly ceased to exist. But...there was something else.

"Look here," Nelyo softly called, carefully moving himself off of the path and closer to the trees. His form was covered by the shadows cast by the trees, making it harder for the Elves to see him. For that reason, Findekano and Moryo moved closer, raising their lamps, the candlelight illuminating Nelyo's form. Nelyo was cautiously moving around an area close to the path, circling around it as if afraid he might disturb something. "Something was here..." He told them. The grass and plants where Nelyo was were pressed down, as if something heavy had been lying over them. "I don't know what it was but...It was here recently."

He glanced up at the others, wondering if they might know what it could have been. They all shook their heads or shrugged, letting him know that they hadn't the slightest clue.

"Hmm," Nelyo hummed, lightly stepping closer to the trees. Findekano and the others followed, hoping they might find something.

Moryo lingered behind a little, deep in thought. Something about that place...struck him as familiar, yet he didn't know why. And, he also couldn't help but feel that they had just overlooked something. Something important.

"Think, Moryo, think." The fourth son of Fëanaro growled to himself, knocking his head a couple of times with his palm. "When we go hunting, we normally take this path...And I'm sure we set up a couple of-" Wait!

Moryo raised his head, eyes wide when it clicked in his mind.

That was it!

"I know where he is!" Moryo cried, turning and shooting away, leaving the others to follow.

"Moryo! What is it?" Tyelko called after him, fingers tightening their grip on his bow.

"The trap, Tyelko! The trap!"

That was all that needed to be said for Tyelko to understand.

"The net we set up..." He breathed, thinking back to the strange marks on the ground Nelyo had found. It made sense!

"What? What are you talking about, Moryo?" Nelyo demanded to know once Moryo skidded to a stop on the path. He reached out and grasped his brother's shoulders, forcing Moryo to face him. "What do you mean you know where Makalaurë is?"

Moryo managed a small grin, excitement bubbling in his chest. If what he thought was true, then Makalaurë was most likely safe!

"When Tyelko, Curvo and I went hunting this morning," He started, taking a couple of breaths, eyes bright, "We set up a couple of nets along the path to see if we could catch any of the wolves."

Tyelko raised his head, eyes sharing the same hope and excitement Moryo had. "We set one up near here!"

"Yes!" Moryo ecstatically nodded. "It's possible that, while trying to defend himself, Makalaurë may have stumbled into the net and triggered the trap."

Nelyo caught his breath, his heart drumming against his chest. If what they said was true...

"Where is this trap, Moryo?"

Moryo tilted his head up, extending an arm and pointing at the tree they were under. "Up there." Everyone followed his gaze. "It's been triggered." Moryo added in a small, hopeful, whisper.

"Light!" Nelyo commanded. Findekano and Moryo moved forwards, lifting the lanterns up.

"Varda's name..." Findekano whispered, the light shining brightly. Up above them, was the net that Moryo had told them about. It wasn't the net, though, that caught their attention. It was the arm dangling out of the net and the dark, inky-black hair they could see slipping through the holes and the boot poking out.

"Makalaurë!" Nelyo breathed.

Tyelko moved quickly, swinging himself up into the tree and speedily climbing up to where Makalaurë was hanging. He crawled up the large branch the net was tied around, calling down to the others, "I'm going to cut the rope then slowly lower him down! Be ready!"

Nelyo nodded, turning to Findekano and Moryo. "We must be careful when he lowers him..." He paused for a moment, worry and concern flashing through his blue orbs. "We don't know how badly hurt he is."

Findekano comfortingly grasped his arm while Moryo told him that they understood.

Tyelko carefully cut through one of the ropes holding the net, clutching it tightly in his hand when it snapped. He worryingly stared down at the net, noting that Makalaurë had remained awfully quiet throughout this entire ordeal. He never made a sound, not even a pained grunt or murmur.

Quietly, Tyelko called out to him, hoping to receive an answer, "Makalaurë?"

Nothing.

He bit his lip. Maybe he was just unconscious.

Yes. That was it.

Swallowing thickly, he called out in a louder voice, "I'm lowering him now, Nelyo!"

"Be careful!" Came the response.

Tyelko said nothing back, concentrating on his task of not jostling Makalaurë too much. Slowly, he allowed the rope he was holding slip through his fingers before gripping it again. This process was repeated several times until Nelyo let him know that the net had been completely lowered. He was quick to follow, dropping down from the branch instead of climbing back down the tree. He watched, along with Moryo and Findekano, with baited breaths as Nelyo moved towards the net.

Makalaurë had yet to utter a sound.

'Valar, please...'

Nelyo stretched out a trembling hand, grasping the edge of the net and carefully peeling it off of Makalaurë. "Moryo..."

Moryo stepped closer to him, raising the lamp that he held over Nelyo's shoulder so that they could see their brother.

Moryo gave a muted gasp when the candlelight cast it's ethereal glow over Makalaurë's body, allowing them to see how badly wounded he was. Tyelko felt a spark of fear shoot through him when Nelyo's hand shot out to feel for a pulse.

He had yet to move closer, to see for himself how terribly injured Makalaurë was, but he couldn't bring himself to. His feet felt like lead and he couldn't lift them up and out of the mud no matter how much he wanted to.

Nelyo released the breath he'd been holding when he felt a faint pulse, some of the fear he had been feeling ebbing away from the knowledge that Makalaurë still drew breath.

He looked awful...

It made Nelyo's heart clench to see the bloodied clothes on Makalaurë, the shallow and deep claw marks marring his chest, arms, and legs, and the rips and tears that ruined his travelling attire. His complexion was pale, far too pale and his breathing was very shallow, his expression one of pain despite being unconscious. His head was turned to the side, away from Nelyo, but the red-head could see that his eyes were closed.

"Kano..."

With a shuddery breath, Nelyo shifted closer to Makalaurë, fingers lightly brushing against a dirtied cheek and turning Makalaurë's head.

Makalaurë flinched. It was light, but Nelyo had felt it.

"Kano...Toron..." Nelyo murmured quietly, an undertone of pain coating his words. It hurt him to see his little Kano like this, this badly hurt.

A flashback of a time when Makalaurë had broken his arm from falling out of a tree came to mind as Nelyo delicately lifted his brother's head and cradled it in his lap. Nelyo remembered murmuring soothing words of comfort to Makalaurë while he cried and clutched the collar of his tunic with his uninjured arm. He had been twelve when that had happened and Nelyo remembered finding him curled up at the base of the tree, sniffling and sobbing while clutching his shoulder in pain.

A soft rasp of air was his reply, and a subtle movement of Makalaurë's head told Nelyo that he had heard him.

Nelyo didn't try to call out to him again, not wanting to wake Makalaurë and force him to greet the pain that was sure to be awaiting him should he awaken.

"Nelyo,"

The eldest of all Fëanaro's sons tipped his head in Moryo's direction, letting him know that he had heard him.

"You- you need to go." Moryo stuttered out, staring down at Makalaurë's prone form in increasing worry. "Makalaurë needs Nalara."

Nelyo knew Moryo was right, but that meant that he had to move Makalaurë... He would have to cause his brother pain.

"Go, Nelyo." Moryo's tone was stern, one that told Nelyo that he had no time to lose.

Nelyo knew this was true. Findekano wordlessly brought his steed next to Nelyo, seeing for himself how in bad shape Makalaurë was. He bit back a gasp, eyes drifting shut at the sight.

"Quickly, Nelyo..." Findekano breathlessly urged, his horse kneeling in order to make it easier for Nelyo to mount him. "Go."

Nelyo carefully, as if Makalaurë were made of glass, gathered his brother closer to him and stood.

A minuscule sound of pain, almost like a whimper, escaped the unconscious Makalaurë's lips, sending a pang of guilt flashing through Nelyo as he raised one leg over the horse's back and sat himself in the saddle.

They had had the horse saddled knowing it would be far easier than riding bareback with an injured Makalaurë.

Findekano's steed carefully raised himself off of the ground and without his master's urging, started to trot away. He went into a full-gallop not too long after, sensing the urgency his rider and master felt.

Findekano, Tyelko, and Moryo were left behind to watch as Nelyo disappeared into the distance, racing away towards home. Each pleaded with the Eru that all would be well.

* * *

 _ **~Maglor's Past~**_

Another high-pitched sound of discomfort and pain drew Nelyo from his worried thoughts and the tall Elf glanced down to see Makalaurë's expression become unbearably pained.

"I'm sorry, Kano..." Nelyo whispered hoarsely, guilt stealing over his features as he urged Findekano's steed to go faster. The horse obediently did so, galloping as fast as it possibly could. "Just stay with me." He urged his unconscious brother.

Howling in the distance caused Nelyo to scowl, hatred directed towards the wolves burning within his chest as they raced to make it home.

Hopefully, Moryo, Tyelko, and Findekano would be safe.

* * *

 _ **~Maglor's Past~**_

Curufinwë Fëanaro was having the worst night possible. He could not sleep. No matter how much he tried, Fëanaro couldn't bring himself to slip into Irmo's realm. He had managed to catch some sleep, but then, he was awoken by doors slamming open and his sons' voices speaking in rushed tones with one another.

He had been curious as to what they had been doing, but figured that his sons were merely startled by the sudden storm that had blown in. Ambarto and Pityo had probably been rudely woken up by the thunder and were searching for a place to stay, and so Fëanaro ignored them and turned over.

Nerdanel was blissfully unaware of the outside world, her forest green eyes glazed over in sleep. Fëanaro envied her for being able to rest so easily while he was stuck staring at the canopy of their bed, trying to bore himself to sleep.

It was never hard during those long council sessions his Father expected for him to attend.

He'd stopped attending when Nolofinwë was of age to join in. He let that Vanya whelp take care of the sessions in his stead.

At least he was good for something.

A breathy sigh emitted from Nerdanel's lips as she curled onto her side, facing Fëanaro. Fëanaro looked to find worry crinkling her brow as Nerdanel continued to sleep.

Well, perhaps she wasn't sleeping all that well like he believed. It was evident that she was having a rather unpleasant dream from the looks of it. At least her dreams weren't as bad as Moryo's. The poor Elfling had suffered from horrendous nightmares that left him screaming and crying when he was young. They had tried to wake him sometimes, whenever the dreams would come, but Nalara had advised against it. She had explained to them that whenever Moryo experienced those dreams, he couldn't be woken up.

Those nights Moryo would dream were the worst for Fëanaro and Nerdanel, and even their children. It pained them to watch Moryo suffer and cry out. Sometimes, he would call for his brothers, begging them to help him and his brothers would be forced to bear the burden of listening to his cries and being unable to help him in any way.

Now, years down the road, Moryo's nightmares had become a rarity. He still had them, and whenever he did, Fëanaro, Nelyo, or Makalaurë would stay with him for the remainder of the night. He wouldn't know they were there, but they were.

Slumping back into his pillows, Fëanaro thought over his sons. A smile grew on his lips as he thought of Ambarto and Pityo. Those two never failed to bring a smile on anyone's face. They managed to brighten everyone's days. Even if they were having the worst of days. The twins were always laughing and smiling, never frowning. They hardly ever seemed to get upset unless one of their brothers were down. They were cheery, upbeat, and excited.

Curvo was a natural in forgery. He had already completed an entire set of swords and daggers, each better than the last. Fëanaro wouldn't be surprised if Curvo surpassed him sometime later on in life. He had a calm personality, but he was sharp. He always looked as if he disliked everyone and everything, which always made Elves shuffle away from him. Only those who dared to speak with him would see the warmth he hid behind the facade.

Moryo was the definition of dark. Dark, brooding, but kind. Partially. He was a morbid one, but he had a sense of humor few knew he was capable of having. He preferred to keep to himself, and was hardly social. He had Fëanaro's trademark smirk but what Fëanaro couldn't figure out, was where he'd gotten his dark eyes. He had blue and Nerdanel had green, but Moryo had been born with treebark brown colored orbs. They matched with his cold, aloof expression. He was shrewd and very much reminded Fëanaro of a cat. The entire family knew, however, that Moryo had a heart, unlike any other Elf they'd met. He had an active mind. When he wasn't physically doing anything, Moryo was lost in his mind, solving whatever mysteries and puzzles it held. Sometimes, he would tire himself out that way. It was odd, and Fëanaro often wished to know what it was his son would think about that would exhaust him so.

Tyelko was a social bug. That was the best Fëanaro could describe him. He loved being around people and his family, and he loooved to talk. He had bright eyes that danced with warmth and a welcoming aura. His looks matched his personality well. His bright golden-blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes... That blinding smile he always wore. He was kind and very enthusiastic. He was also optimistic. The entire world could be against him and Tyelko would still point out every positive thing he could find. He was also athletic. It wasn't unusual for Tyelko to rise early in the morning and go for a run through the woods only to return and practice his archery. He'd become an expert marksman at the young age of thirty. Tyelko would enter into every competition he could, whether it be running, archery, or even swimming. He would go and perform just to have fun.

Nelyo struck Fëanaro as the leader of the brothers. He was the one Fëanaro's sons would all look up to. He was the one they felt most safe with. Nelyo was laid-back, patient, and always calm. He was slow to anger and subtle. Whenever his brothers were misbehaving, Nelyo would hint to his brothers that they had better fix their behavior or he would deal with them later. They would immediately warp into perfect little Elflings anytime that happened. Fëanaro had heard from his sons that an angered Nelyo was more frightening than an angered Fëanaro. It wasn't that Nelyo would raise his voice or sharply rebuke them for every little thing they did wrong, no. He would sit them down and with that low, stern tone, would go over their behavior and explain to them why whatever they had done was wrong. Sometimes, Fëanaro would be able to catch that look Nelyo would shoot his sons or any other Elf in particular when they would step out of line. It was a look Fëanaro would think could freeze over the oceans. Nelyo did, however, make sure to point out anything his sons did that was good. When they would unknowingly perform an act of kindness, Nelyo would be sure to point it out.

Nelyo was talented in fencing. He could fight using both a broad sword or twin knives and was lethal with a dagger. His height gave him an advantage against his opponents but it was also Nelyo's intellect that gave him the upper hand. Fëanaro believed his son could somehow read into his opponent's mind to know what they were going to do next, for he was always a step ahead than Fëanaro when they would train. It made Fëanaro work harder in order to not allow Nelyo to win. He liked the challenge it gave him, but at the same time, it told Fëanaro that he'd better step up his game or Nelyo would crush him like a bug during their next training session.

Now...

Fëanaro's lips twisted into a troubled frown.

Makalaurë.

His little songbird. The family's beam of light they sought to conserve and protect. Makalaurë was a pure, innocent young Elf with the biggest heart Fëanaro had ever seen. He was shy but friendly, gentle yet firm, and very loving. Makalaurë was what linked his sons together. Fëanaro knew what Makalaurë would do for his brothers and how he would encourage them no matter what. He believed in his brothers and never made them feel ashamed for being who they were. It was for that reason the brothers all turned to Makalaurë and stuck with him. They could trust him and talk to him about things they weren't comfortable approaching Fëanaro or Nerdanel about. They knew Makalaurë would be there for them. Makalaurë was always willing to help everyone, and sometimes, Fëanaro feared for his son. Makalaurë would overexert himself by putting everyone before him. He would neglect himself, but Makalaurë wouldn't care. As long as he'd made someone else happy, he was fine. He was quiet but not one to be underestimated.

Makalaurë had always been the ray of sunshine in their family, but now, he was...different.

No one knew what had triggered the change, but before they knew it, Makalaurë had become a totally different and unrecognizable Elf to them. He was withdrawn and preferred to be alone rather than in the company of others. If he ever wanted company, he would turn to the twins. Only the twins were capable of bringing out some of the old Makalaurë. He barely sang now and hardly ever messed with his harp or practice on his flute. He was silent, speaking only when he deemed it necessary.

It made both Fëanaro and Nerdanel worried out of their mind. They feared that whatever was troubling their son was something serious. They had hoped he would talk to someone about it, but the only person Makalaurë would freely choose to speak with was Finwë. And, much to Fëanaro's dismay, Nolofinwë. Makalaurë was quite content with spending his time with his Uncle. Fëanaro wondered if it was because Nolofinwë never tried to get him to speak or make him do something unless he wanted to. Nolofinwë seemed to respect Makalaurë's silence. The thing that grated on Fëanaro's nerves was the fact that when Nolofinwë would idly chat to Makalaurë about something, whether it was to comment on some flower he found beautiful or something he found interesting, Makalaurë would respond with a remark of his own. He would even speak more than one sentence to Nolofinwë!

Fëanaro would be lying if he claimed that he wasn't hurt by this.

He was hurt. There were days Fëanaro would wonder if he wasn't a good Father if Makalaurë couldn't bring himself to talk with him about the smallest of things or random subjects that popped into his mind.

Nerdanel had tried to assure Fëanaro by saying that whatever was bothering Makalaurë may be something he didn't want to speak with them about because he believed it would make his parents laugh at him or think he was crazy. Or that they might think that whatever he was troubled by was such a minuscule and silly thing to be worried over.

Fëanaro could understand that. There were some things Fëanaro could never bring himself to talk about to his own Father because he believed his Father would give him that 'seriously?' look or think that he was being silly. He hoped that was the case.

It had been about five years since Makalaurë's sudden change. Five long years.

A deep sigh brought Fëanaro back to the present and he turned his head to find Nerdanel trying to make herself comfortable beside him. Her eyes had lost some of the haze of sleep, letting him know that she was somewhat awake.

"Nerdanel?" Fëanaro quietly murmured, testing to see whether or not she was awake.

He received a tired hum for an answer.

"Are you well?" He questioned.

Silence.

Maybe she was still asleep.

"I'm worried."

Fëanaro blinked, discovering that his wife was slowly becoming wide awake now that she had left Irmo's realm.

"Worried?" He repeated.

Nerdanel tiredly nodded, shifting so that she was closer to him. "I sense something...amiss." She admitted, her brows drawing together in concern. "I think...Something is wrong, Fëanaro." She whispered softly.

Fëanaro sat up, Nerdanel rising along with him. He knew better than to dismiss his wife's feelings. Anytime she had a feeling, or sensed something, Nerdanel was normally right. He'd learned that early on in their married life.

Nerdanel slowly raised a hand up to cover her heart, coughing lightly. Concerned, Fëanaro tucked some of her red hair behind her ear. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine," Nerdanel murmured, a hint of confusion in her voice. "I think..." Her eyes grew large when Nerdanel was struck with a sense of panic. Panic that didn't belong to her. "It's our sons!" She gasped, flying forward in fear. She nearly tumbled out of the bed, sending Fëanaro careening forward to catch her before she fell. He barely managed to snatch the back of her nightgown when Nerdanel slipped from his grasp.

"Nerdanel!" Fëanaro called, watching his wife stumble out of the bed and throw on the nearest, silky, robe. He quickly followed her lead, slipping out of the bed and jogging after her. Nerdanel basically threw the door to their chamber open and sped down the corridor, Fëanaro running after her.

"Something's happened!" Nerdanel fearfully panted out, her feet barely grazing the tiled floor as she ran. She passed each of her sons' rooms, discovering that most of their doors were open and the beds were empty. Fëanaro noticed as well, and realized that the commotion he had heard earlier must not have been because of the twins' fear of the storm.

They were about to pass by Curvo's room when Nerdanel noted that his door was the only one that was shut. She slid towards it, flinging the door open and barging in, startling the occupants of the room.

"Where are they?" Nerdanel near-demanded of her son.

Curvo, who had been seated on the window-sill, nearly leaped out of his skin at his mother's sudden entrance. The twins cried out in surprise and hid their faces in his night-shirt.

"Ammë?"

"Where are they, Curvo?" Nerdanel asked again, lowering her voice when her eyes fell upon the trembling forms of Ambarussa.

Curvo swallowed, his eyes flickering out the window before settling on his Mother. "They left, Nelyo and the others."

"Others?" Fëanaro parroted, silently asking Curvo to tell them who the 'others' were.

"Tyelko, Moryo, and Findekano, Atto. They left earlier..." Curvo clarified, looking between his Father and Mother with a hint of worry.

"Why did they leave?" Fëanaro asked, the lightning from the storm illuminating the entire room. Curvo bit his lip and his parents shared a look. One that spoke of apprehension.

"Makalaurë. They left because of Makalaurë." Curvo slowly replied, tugging on the edge of his sleeve. A sign that he was anxious.

"What of him?" Nerdanel wanted to know, clenching her fists together. Had something happened to Makalaurë? Why did everyone leave because of him? What had he done?

"He never came home..."

It was barely a whisper, but they both heard it.

Fëanaro and Nerdanel tensed.

"What?" Nerdanel hadn't meant to sound harsh, but hearing that Makalaurë had never come home from the market caused her worry to sharpen her tone.

Curvo reluctantly dragged his gaze up to meet theirs, nervously chewing on his lower lip. "Makalaurë never came home last night...Nelyo found out and they left to find him."

Nerdanel released a shaky breath, leaning against Fëanaro, her hands grasping his tightly. Fëanaro didn't flinch from the vice-like grip she had on his hand, instead wrapping his free arm around her shoulders. He, too, was worried to death by this.

"Why weren't we informed?" Fëanaro all but growled, intense blue eyes morphing into a dim grey as they fell upon Curvo's shrinking form. Curvo, for his part, did his best not to shirk back from the weight of his stare.

"It was so sudden." Curvo confessed, comfortingly running his hands up and down Ambarto and Pityo's backs. The twins whimpered quietly, fingers bunching up the fabric of his shirt. "Nelyo ordered for Tyelko and Moryo to come and they left. Findekano went with them because he sensed something was wrong. They knew it had to do with Makalaurë, so they went. We didn't think about anything else but finding Makalaurë." His voice grew so quiet near the end his parents had to strain their ears to hear him.

"Oh Valar..." Nerdanel moaned, hiding her face in her hands. She was so afraid... She had heard about the wolf attacks but had thought, believed, that because there hadn't been any wolf sightings for three weeks, that that meant they were safe. No wonder Makalaurë had been reluctant to go to Tirion with the twins. He probably knew that there were still wild wolves starving for food. And she had sent him to take the twins to the market... "Makalaurë...It's Makalaurë." Her breath hitched, a sob catching in her throat.

"Nerdanel?"

Nerdanel tearfully looked up at her husband, forest green eyes darkening. "Makalaurë was in trouble, Fëanaro. Something happened to him- I felt it."

Fëanaro's grip on his wife tightened, his lips thinning. Curvo could've sworn he had seen terror flash in those sharp blue eyes, but it had disappeared so fast he wondered if he'd imagined it.

"To think that I sent him out there...When he knew...He knew..." Nerdanel trailed off, a couple of stray tears slipping down her cheeks.

Fëanaro shook his head, drawing his wife in a comforting embrace. "No. Don't blame yourself, Nerdanel."

"But it is my fault! I shouldn't have made him go!"

"Ammë-" Curvo was cut off when a strange sound filled the air just as the thunder bellowed.

The three Elves glanced at one another in bewilderment. The twins, however, sat up with wide eyes, recognizing the odd sound they knew didn't belong to the angry storm.

"Nel!" They chimed, shuffling closer to the window and pressing their faces against it to find their brother.

Curvo moved closer as well, hearing the whisper of fabric against the ground. His parents came up behind them, peering out the window in curiosity and worry. Now that the twins had said it, they realized that it had been Nelyo's shouting they had heard.

Another faint and incomprehensible shout echoed through the woods surrounding their home and Nerdanel tensed, recognizing the undertone of urgency and barely concealed fear in Nelyo's voice.

The sound of a rapidly approaching horse followed after the shout and before anyone could move, Fëanaro had dashed away from the room, streaking through his home to the entrance. He didn't have to wait to see Nelyo to know why his son sounded so scared. He knew.

Makalaurë.

He skidded to a near-stop before the great doors leading outside his home and threw one open, bolting outside just as Nelyo rode through the gate on Findekano's steed.

Fëanaro's elven sight allowed him to see the bundle Nelyo clutched against him and fear spiked within him.

Nelyo was drenched from the rain, his clothes soaked and hair sticking to his face, but his white nightshirt was stained with red.

Blood, Fëanaro knew, and his heart sank.

"Nelyo!" He didn't even realize he had called out to his son until Nelyo whipped his head in his direction, blue eyes bright.

"Atto! Help him!" Nelyo pleaded, tugging on the horse's reins. The horse obediently stopped and lowered himself, allowing Nelyo to stumble off its back. Fëanaro rushed forward, catching both Nelyo and Makalaurë when Nelyo slipped and crumpled to the ground. He managed to keep Makalaurë out of harm's way, thanks to Fëanaro's lightning fast reflexes.

Fëanaro, when he was finally able to see Makalaurë for himself, thought that his son was already lost to them. There was so much blood...

He burned with anger at the creatures he knew had attacked his son, yet his heart wept from the sight of his wounded songbird.

They had to act fast.

Fëanaro reached out and took Makalaurë from Nelyo's arms, drawing his son to him and holding him close. A weak whimper escaped Makalaurë's lips and Fëanaro felt a pang of guilt slice through him.

"Run ahead," Fëanaro ordered, never once tearing his gaze away from Makalaurë's pale face. "Wake Nalara and Kliara. Quickly!"

Nelyo shot off at once, racing up the steps to his home and darting away in the direction of the halls of healing. He completely missed Nerdanel standing beside the doorway, her face stricken and complexion pale as she stared down at Fëanaro. She blanched when Fëanaro entered their home, allowing her to see the injuries her son bore.

Fëanaro also didn't notice her, too focused on his son. Nerdanel followed after him, holding her tears at bay.

* * *

 _ **~Maglor's Past~**_

It felt like an eternity, to the pacing Fëanaro, waiting for Nalara to open the door to the room that held Makalaurë and talk to them about their little Songbird. To let them know if he would be alright and what he would need.

Fëanaro sighed when he paused in his pacing, hands clasped together behind his back as he surveyed the hallway crowded by his family.

Nelyo was slumped against the wall across the door, blankly staring ahead, waiting for the moment that it would open and Nalara would allow them in to see his brother. Ambarto and Pityo were cuddled together in his lap, two fingers popped into their mouth. The two were eerily silent, as if they had caught onto the fact that something bad had happened and were anxiously waiting to be told what it was. Moryo was seated to the right of Nelyo and Tyelko was to his left. Both had leaned against their elder brother, vacantly burning holes in the ground while waiting for something to happen. Curvo had curled up against Moryo's side, and the dark Elf didn't bother to push him away. Together, the brothers gave one another silent comfort and support.

Nerdanel was wringing her hands together on a nearby bench, anxious. It had been a long while since Fëanaro had brought Makalaurë to the halls of Healing, and they still hadn't heard anything. The door had never opened and Nalara had never appeared. She feared the worst.

Quiet steps approaching them caused Fëanaro to raise his head in time to see a tall, dark-haired Elf round the corner, followed by another Elf. The two were a splitting image of one another and Fëanaro felt a little surprised to see them in his home.

Two other Elves walked after them, worry evident in all of their expressions.

"We heard what happened..." The first Elf uttered quietly, concern seeping into his tone. His voice broke the tense silence that had settled over Fëanaro and his family.

"Atto..." Fëanaro breathed out, shoulders slumping when Finwë approached him and drew him into an embrace. Fëanaro dropped his head against his Father's shoulder, reciprocating the embrace. Nolofinwë went over to Nerdanel's side, seating himself down beside her and squeezing her hand lightly. Nerdanel clutched his hand in her own, casting him a thankful glance. She could use all the comfort she could get.

Findekano and Turukano wandered over to where Fëanaro's sons were clustered together, and it was only when they drew closer that Nelyo raised his head.

If he hadn't been so worried about Makalaurë, he would've started in surprise when he found a young Elfling standing before him, her dark hair cascading over her slim shoulders and blue eyes regarding him with concern. She bore a striking resemblance to Turukano and Nolofinwë, with her slim figure and black hair. The eyes were even the same. There was the same kindness and warmth radiating within them.

The young Elfling shuffled closer to him then wrapped her arms around him. Or, tried to. Her arms were too short.

She pulled away, patting his head and Nelyo graced her with a weak smile. She hesitated for a moment, clutching the stuffed Elk she had then moved forward and offered it to the Ambarussa.

Ambarto and Pityo stared at the stuffed Elk for a moment. Shyly, The twins reached out and took it, settling it between them and hugging it tightly. The Elfling smiled brightly, glad that they had accepted her stuffed animal, never noticing the attention she had drawn because of her kindness.

Findekano and Turkano sat themselves on the ground before them, smiling at the Elfling, and the Elfling waddled over to Turukano. Turukano's arms wrapped around her small waist when she sat in his lap, nestling against him.

Fëanaro couldn't help the small grin that graced his lips as he watched his twin sons cling to the stuffed Elk.

His attention was diverted when Nolofinwë softly spoke up.

"How is he?"

Fëanaro, for once, didn't feel any of the dislike he held against his brother or any ire rise when Nolofinwë spoke, and answered with a shake of his head. "We haven't heard anything." He whispered, lowering his gaze to the ground.

Finwë tightened his grip on Fëanaro, soothingly running his fingers through his hair. "Makalaurë is strong, Fëanaro. He will pull through." Finwë assured him.

It was at that moment that the door to the room Makalaurë was in creaked open.

Almost at once, the sons of Fëanaro snapped to attention, staring at the door expectantly. Nerdanel had also raised her head apprehensively. Fëanaro pulled away from Finwë and turned to face Nalara just as the Healer stepped out and silently shut the door behind her.

"How is he?"

Nalara looked up at the sound of his voice, catching sight of Nerdanel rapidly approaching her husband's side.

"Nalara?" Nerdanel reached for Fëanaro's hand, clearly expecting to be told that Makalaurë was in terrible condition and was preparing herself for it.

Nalara inhaled deeply and, in low tones, replied, "He will be alright."

At these words, the tension in the room eased as everyone slumped in relief. Nerdanel dropped her head against Fëanaro's shoulder, tightly closing her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.

"The wounds weren't as bad as they looked." Nalara continued on, never raising her voice any louder than a breezy whisper. She could tell everyone was raptly listening to her and was a little taken aback to find Lord Finwë, Nolofinwë and his children, also in the hallway outside Makalaurë's room. "The worst wounds were those that Kliara had to stitch."

All of the sons of Fëanaro, excluding the twins, flinched in sympathy. They all knew what it was like to get stitches, and it wasn't pleasant. Nalara smirked lightly, but it faded away into a serious frown.

"He will be bedridden for at least two weeks in order to recover."

"Two weeks?" Fëanaro repeated, a little incredulous. "It is that bad?"

Nalara's head moved from side to side a couple of time. "No, but his collarbone was snapped clean in two and he cannot move much or the stitches will pull apart. He has suffered from much blood loss and there is also a risk of infection."

Nerdanel's face was ashen as she listened to Nalara's words, her heart going out to her son. He had to be in so much pain... If only she could take the pain for him.

* * *

 _ **~Maglor's Past~**_

A day later was when Makalaurë awoke to find himself surrounded by family. He was disoriented at first, confused as to why he was in the Halls of Healing.

It was the Ambarussa who discovered that their brother had awoken, and their ecstatic cries of delight woke everyone else up.

Makalaurë had no idea how many times he was hugged by his brothers, Father, and Mother or the tears that were shed -mostly by his mother. When he was told the story of how his brothers, and Findekano, had searched for him the two nights before and had brought him back, Makalaurë had looked incredibly guilty and apologized profusely to his family.

It was Curvo who summoned up the courage to whack his brother's head, minding his wounds, and lecture him about apologizing over such a stupid thing. Makalaurë only sat there, staring at his brother as Curvo scolded him then made him promise never to do it again.

Makalaurë had to bite back the urge to say that it wasn't his fault, knowing Curvo needed for him to promise this, so he did. Well, he said that he would try his best.

Hardly anyone left his side for the next few days. Then the nightmares began.

Makalaurë was reliving the night he had been attacked, and nearly mauled, by the wolves. His memories had been a little shady, but the nightmares reminded him about everything he had gone through.

He grew restless and would pierce the night with his shouts and cries of agony. Fëanaro ended up having to crawl into the bed and hold his son during those nights, seeing as his presence seemed to set Makalaurë at ease. When Fëanaro wasn't around, it was Nelyo who took it upon himself to comfort his brother.

It was on this night, the seventh day after Makalaurë had awoken that Nelyo found himself watching over Makalaurë as he slept. His eyes were still closed, hiding those brilliant blue eyes behind closed lids. He was still pale, but not too pale and looked quite frail.

Makalaurë had always had that sense of fragility about him. That vulnerability and delicacy that made nearly everyone he met like him immediately. He was graceful, far more graceful than any other Elf Nelyo had met, and elegant. He had always been sweet and kind to everyone, hardly ever uttering any insult or cruel word to anyone. It was one of the reasons every Elf in Tirion loved him. He would help the community in any way he could, playing music for their festivals or coming to lend a helping hand for any project the Elves would put together for the community. He would set up plays and direct some of them, composing the best music possible to go along with them.

Nelyo sighed heavily, looking over to see if Makalaurë was resting well. So far, this night had been rather easy-going and Makalaurë was peacefully slumbering away.

The peace didn't last. Not even an hour had past before Makalaurë started whimpering and uttering small cries of pain and fear. Nelyo immediately reached out and took his brother's hand, murmuring soothing words to Makalaurë, hoping his brother might hear him.

He didn't.

Makalaurë made a rather sharp move, agitating his collarbone, and Makalaurë gave a sharp, wounded, shout. Nelyo cringed, knowing that his brother had to be in a lot of pain now.

"Makalaurë, hush." He held his brother's hand in both of his, marveling at how much smaller Makalaurë's hand was compared to his. "Tis only a nightmare."

Makalaurë didn't hear him, his fingers curling round one of Nelyo's hands, nails digging into his skin.

"Makalaurë," Nelyo repeated, a little louder. He couldn't break through to his brother. When Makalaurë whimpered again, Nelyo carefully climbed onto the large medical bed and settled beside Makalaurë, his head above his brother's.

As if sensing him near, Makalaurë subtly moved his way and Nelyo remained stock still as the minstrel turned his head in his direction.

"That's it, Makalaurë." Nelyo encouraged. "It's okay. You're safe."

"Nel..." It was so small Nelyo almost missed it.

"I'm here, Kano." Nelyo assured him, gripping his brother's hand. "I'm here."

"Help..."

Nelyo's heart broke at the heartrending plea, guilt slashing through him. Makalaurë was calling out to him to save him from the wolves...

Squeezing his eyes shut, Nelyo touched his forehead to Makalaurë's, clenching his teeth tightly together. His failure was still fresh in his mind and Makalaurë calling out to him made him feel even worse. He hadn't been there for his brother. Hadn't been there to save him from the wolves.

"Hurts..." Makalaurë wheezed, coughing lightly. "Hurts...a lot...Make it stop...Please..." Teardrops clung to his lashes. Pain transformed his once-peaceful features, letting Nelyo see how much discomfort he was in.

Nelyo could've cried.

"Nel..."

Nelyo wondered how his Father could do it. How could his Father have stayed beside Makalaurë and listened to his son's cries and wails of pain and fear. It was almost too much for Nelyo, but he loved his brother too much to leave him alone in his agony. He would stay and he would comfort Makalaurë as best he could.

A broken sob fled past Makalaurë's lips when he moved again and the pain of his mending collarbone flared in response.

"I'm sorry..."

Nelyo stared at his brother, wondering why Makalaurë was apologizing. He had nothing to apologize for; Curvo had already told him this.

"So sorry...I was a fool..."

"Shh, Kano." Nelyo calmly murmured, squeezing Makalaurë's hand.

"Nelyo..."

"I'm here, Kano. I'm here. You'll be alright." Nelyo didn't know why he kept talking, but he did. It was obvious Makalaurë couldn't hear him, but Nelyo kept going. "There are no wolves here...You're home. You're safe, remember? You're okay..." He kept assuring him, holding onto that frail hope that Makalaurë would hear him at some point.

Another cough.

A wince of pain.

"I know..."

Nelyo blinked, opening his eyes to find that Makalaurë's own blue orbs were cracked open and staring into his. "Kano..?"

"Nelyo..." Makalaurë's eyes slid shut as a grimace of pain crossed his features. "It hurts..."

"I know...I'm sorry..."

"Sorry..?" Makalaurë weakly repeated, doing his best not to move despite the uncomfortable position he was in. His neck ached from being propped up at a weird angle and his collarbone was screaming at him for having his shoulders hunched up against the pillows instead of lying against something solid. "Help me...move..."

Nelyo hesitated for a split moment, not wanting to cause his brother anymore pain, but Makalaurë was pleading for him to help him move into a more comfortable position. He slowly nodded and delicately lifted Makalaurë up. Makalaurë bit back a hiss of pain, sighing out in relief when Nelyo propped him further up his pillows in a semi-sitting position. It was a more comfortable position for his collarbone, and the pillows were fluffy.

Nelyo settled beside him, leaning back against the pillows. Makalaurë silently rested his head against Nelyo's shoulder, nudging him. Nelyo glanced down at him.

"Are you comfortable?"

Makalaurë grunted quietly, nudging Nelyo's arm again. Nelyo raised his arm up and Makalaurë nestled closer. Nelyo curled his arm around Makalaurë's shoulder and Makalaurë used it as a pillow for his head. He hummed contentedly, allowing his eyes to drift shut.

It was silent afterwards, neither of them speaking until Makalaurë asked,

"Why are you sorry?"

"What?" Nelyo turned his head in question.

"You said you were sorry." Makalaurë told him, toying with the edge of his white blanket. "When I said I was in pain..."

Nelyo bitterly smiled. "It's nothing you should worry over."

Makalaurë frowned. "Nelyo...Something's bothering you."

Nelyo sighed. "Rest, Kano."

But the minstrel refused to. "Nelyo, I know something's wrong. What is it?"

"Nothing, Kano."

"But it has to be something." Makalaurë persisted. Nelyo said nothing. Then it dawned over the minstrel. "You blame yourself..."

Nelyo sharply looked to him only to glance away when Makalaurë tipped his head up to look at him. "You blame yourself!" Disbelief coated his words and Makalaurë was openly staring at his elder brother in shock. "You think it's your fault I'm like this!"

Nelyo sighed deeply. "Kano-"

"No!" Makalaurë interrupted, glaring daggers at Nelyo. "Don't 'Kano' me!" He sternly said, effectively silencing his brother. "You are blaming yourself for something that was out of your control. Nelyo, you have to stop doing this! You're not some deity, some, some God!" The minstrel waved his hands in the air as he spoke, completely ignoring how his collarbone protested against the movement, "You can't protect me from everything, Nelyo."

Nelyo listened to Makalaurë's rant, a little stricken.

"I know you want to shield me, Nelyo. I know you want to keep me safe, but you won't always be there for me." Makalaurë told him, speaking softly. "I appreciate everything you do, I really do...But, Nelyo, there are some things you can't protect me from. My own stupidity for one," he raised a hand when Nelyo immediately went to protest, "My naivety, my fragility...I'm not as strong as you, and if I had trained more, I would've been able to stand my ground against those wolves far better than I did. It was my own fault I was attacked by wolves, Nelyo. It wasn't yours, it wasn't Atto's, it wasn't anyone's fault that it happened." He took hold of Nelyo's hand as he continued. "Think of this experience as a wake-up call for the both of us. I came to realize the error of my ways- a little too late- and you..."

Nelyo's eyes slid shut as he bowed his head. "Learned that I can't always be there for my brothers; that I can't do everything I want to...No matter how much I want to." He averted his gaze. "Though I would've preferred to have learned this lesson in a different way. I guess, I didn't realize what I was doing." He admitted with a somber grin.

Makalaurë kindly smiled up at his brother. "It's alright, Nelyo. You set such outrageous expectations for yourself, but it's to be expected. We worry sometimes, you know."

Nelyo tilted his head in question, wondering what his brother meant.

"You tire yourself with helping us all the time. You're always helping Ammë with the twins and the rest of us, always lending a hand when Atto needs it, pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion making sure we're taken care of instead of looking after yourself."

Nelyo's brows drew together. "Truly?" Now that his brother mentioned it...Nelyo found that it was true. He hadn't noticed since he was so used to doing everything he could to help everyone.

Makalaurë shook his head. "I don't understand how you do it. How can you keep on doing this without crumbling underneath all of the responsibility you place on your shoulders?"

Nelyo smiled lightly. "I think you already know the answer to that, Makalaurë."

Makalaurë nodded slowly. "You're right. I do. I remember..."

"You remember what?"

"When I was, I think, fourteen? You had to watch over me because Ammë and Atto left to go to the market. I'm surprised I didn't drive you crazy with everything I wanted- forced you- to do. We went to the waterfall, played Hide-me-seek-me, walked to the Market, walked home, baked some cookies and a cake..." Makalaurë laughed, a sound Nelyo had been waiting for so long to hear again. Makalaurë's laugh was as musical as his voice, a welcoming sound. "You were still healing from your own encounter with some wolves, and you still pushed yourself in order to make me happy." He played with the edge of the blanket once again, eyes faraway and with a nostalgic smile on his lips. "Being the fool I was, I mistook salt for sugar."

Nelyo let loose another string of laughter at the memory then stopped mid-laugh. "Wait...How do you..?" He stared at Makalaurë, stunned. How did Makalaurë know? He was certain Makalaurë believed the cake he and Nelyo were able to enjoy was the one they had baked together.

Makalaurë smirked. "You may not have noticed, but I was hiding behind the kitchen door watching as you baked another cake because the one we made was ruined."

Nelyo's mouth was still agape and Makalaurë's smirk grew. "Oh, yes. I saw what you did."

"I...I..."

"At a loss for words, Nelyo? I'm amazed. It isn't often that you are tongue-tied."

"I didn't know..."

"I see that now." The smirk faded. "I couldn't believe you would do such a thing for me...You didn't want me to be upset, so you took more of your time baking another cake for us to enjoy because you wanted to make me happy. I'm sure you remember how insecure and shy I was at that age...I always felt I was a disappointment or that I only managed to ruin everything. I didn't understand why you would go out of your way to ensure my happiness. I asked you about it too...I asked why you spent your own time with me that day instead of telling me to find ways to amuse myself..." Makalaurë cleared his throat when his voice gave out. "That night, when you thought I had fallen asleep, you told me that it was because you loved your little brother and didn't think I was annoying or a pest. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

Nelyo found that he couldn't speak after Makalaurë had finished, so he settled for resting his head atop Makalaurë's and tightening his grip, knowing Makalaurë would understand what he was trying to say.

Makalaurë smiled a true smile. "Thank-you, Nelyo. I know I haven't always been at my best, but you've always been patient with me, and for that, I am most grateful. I promise, I won't continue sulking anymore."

"About that..."

"We'll talk about it later." Makalaurë smoothly interjected. "I promise. It was silly, really."

"Silly? Five years and you call whatever's been bothering you silly?"

Makalaurë winced. "Ai...It's been five years? My...I was worse that I thought."

Nelyo rolled his eyes at Makalaurë, but he smiled all the same. It was wonderful to have his Kano back. He didn't realize how much he missed him until now. Hopefully, Kano would stay.

Silence settled over the two, broken only when they yawned. "Well, I am tired..." Makalaurë tiredly announced, peering up at his brother from beneath his dark hair. "You will stay..?"

"Of course." Nelyo assured him.

Please, Makalaurë allowed himself to give in to his body's need for sleep, knowing that he had no need to fear the dreams that would come.

* * *

 _ **~Maglor's Past~**_

 **This chapter's a little shorter than I meant for it to be, but it's done. Part 3 and 4 will come up later on in the story. Next chapter will deal with Caranthir's return and a little about what's going on in the present day. I certainly hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and will enjoy the rest that are to come!**


	9. Caranthir's Return

_**Alright. I'm back. I've been so busy that I've been neglecting this story! I promise you, I have no intention of abandoning it. It's just been so hectic these past couple of weeks with so many things going on... I've literally been dead on my feet, but it's given me plenty of time to think over what I want to write next for this story. I know the last chapter was more of a glimpse into Maglor's past, but this chapter obviously deals with Caranthir's return to the past.  
Again, reviews are most welcome. Especially constructive criticism. Much appreciated!  
Anyways, I thank everyone of you who reviewed! I'm so glad you guys like my story! I hope you continue to like it!  
**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Maglor laid awake that night, unable to catch a wink of sleep. It was impossible to with everything that was going on. Thank the Valar they had found everyone meant to carry on the task of destroying the Silmarils, but curse the Valar for speeding up time. Maglor could've sworn that all he'd done was blink and then, all of a sudden, the Silmarils were being created.

Thinking over their small group, Maglor worried. How would they do this? How could they keep Fëanaro from making the jewels?

It was a difficult question. One Maglor didn't have the answer to. They couldn't approach Fëanaro and kindly ask him to drop the project. The thought made Maglor cringe. Fëanaro would only double his efforts to prove that their worries and fears were misplaced.

Sighing heavily, troubled by the sudden turn of events, Maglor carefully shifted so that he was in a more comfortable position. Aredhel and Turgon had left only three hours before, an hour after Thuringwethil's unexpected arrival. The time had flown by, he realized, seeing as it was already nearing dawn. Thuringwethil had taken refuge outside of his room, within a tree. He had offered to find her a better place, but Thuringwethil wished to be outside. Only Caranthir remained, and the cursed Elf had fallen asleep with his head on Maglor's chest, leaving Maglor with no choice but to remain as still as possible so as to not awaken him. He didn't truly mind, thankful to have someone with him. Someone who understood him. Caranthir may have struck everyone as a dark and brooding Ellon, but Maglor knew that deep within, he did care. At least, for his brothers. He'd proven that many times before. Maglor would forever be grateful to Caranthir for helping him deal with Fëanaro's death and the immense amount of guilt he'd carried on his shoulders ever since the Teleri Ships. Caranthir may not have known it, but the silent comfort he'd given Maglor had helped him to carry on. He never regretted following his brothers, but he did regret everything they'd done, and he knew Caranthir felt the same.

Maglor turned his head to the side, staring out the window. He could see the sun starting to make an appearance on the horizon and stifled the urge to groan. He hadn't slept at all. He was certain someone would catch onto that and pester him about it.

Mostly his mother. She always knew when her children weren't doing well. She could sense any small change in them and was quick to observe any odd behavior. When Maglor had first accompanied her to the marketplace, then to her workshop, Nerdanel had tried questioning her son about what had been troubling him, but Maglor only assured his Ammë that he was fine and that she had no need to worry.

That had been the biggest lie he'd ever told and Maglor regretted ever allowing those traitorous words to flee past his lips. He knew Nerdanel caught it too, but she had chosen not to say anything. He was still trying to work in reestablishing the frail Father-son relationship between himself and Fëanaro. A taxing thing to do. It was hard, since Maglor kept thinking about his Father as Fëanor. No matter what they did, he would always be reminded of something Fëanor had done and it would cause Maglor to drift away from Fëanaro.

It was as clear as day that his...discomfort around Fëanaro hurt his Father greatly. At first, Fëanaro had been able to hide some of the hurt, but now, it showed. Maglor and his brothers could tell that Fëanaro was starting to give in to the fact that Maglor probably didn't want anything to do with him and he had been seen less and less in their home.

Maglor couldn't express how guilty that made him feel. He would constantly beat himself up over the matter, yet every time he felt motivated to repair their relationship, it fell through. It pained him to know that he was hurting his Father, and no matter how hard he tried, he always made matters worse.

This didn't surprise him at all. He had always been terrible at fixing his own problems. He could give troubled people good advice and aid them in their own problems, but whenever Maglor came across something problematic...

He didn't understand it. This was why he was glad to have an elder brother to turn to.

Well, he used to. Now, he didn't know how Nelyo could help him. He probably could, but could he do it without telling Nelyo about everything that was going on? He wasn't too sure he could. He knew that if he even tried to vaguely touch on the subject, he'd end up spilling everything to his brother. That was something he couldn't risk. Nelyo, for whatever reason, could always get Maglor to tell him everything. He never had to say anything or urge him to admit to him what was wrong... All he had to do was give him a look, and Maglor would tell him every secret he held.

If he were to do that, what were the chances that Nelyo would believe him? Even if he were to have Caranthir, Aredhel, Turgon, and Thuringwethil vouch for him? By Varda, he supposed he could have Elrond help him...

He could even show him the burn of the Silmaril.

Speaking of Elrond, he did need to check on the...Elfling.

It was odd to think about. He'd gotten used to seeing Elrond as the grown-up Elf Lord he'd become and now, he was back to being an Elfling. Or was he? From what Elrond had told him, he was only six summers old and had been with Maedhros whenever he slipped into the past.

The past...

Maglor curiously eyed Caranthir. What was his story? How did he find his way back to the past? Aredhel had fallen off her horse, Turgon had a training incident, Maglor had been given a chance, and Elrond apparently fell into a river. What had Caranthir done?

Chewing on his lower lip, Maglor debated whether or not he wanted to wake his brother and ask him that question. It had been nagging at him ever since he discovered that Caranthir was one of them.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Maglor shook his brother awake. Better to ask him now than later, since they had a Feast going on tonight, he reasoned.

Caranthir made a disgruntled face, a scowl upon his lips, showing Maglor that he didn't appreciate being woken up and had no intention of waking up. His eyes didn't lose the haze of sleep, letting Maglor know he had failed in waking him up.

Well, he wouldn't fail again.

Maglor shook him again, uncaring that he was being a bothersome pest to his brother. Caranthir batted at his hand, mumbling something like 'pesky insects' under his breath and snuggling closer to Maglor, striking the minstrel's chin with his head.

Maglor winced, having bitten his tongue and hit Caranthir, lightly, on the head.

That seemed to wake him.

"Maglor..." Caranthir's voice, heavy with sleep, growled, "Quit it."

"Caranthir,"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

Maglor huffed, and Caranthir opened one eye to glare at him. "Go to sleep." The dark Elf mumbled. "It's late." He yawned and shifted closer to Maglor, willing himself back to sleep.

Maglor quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "You mean it's early."

"...What?" Was the tired response.

"It's almost dawn."

"...Already?" Caranthir grumbled, peeking from under his arm to see if Maglor was telling the truth. He was, sadly. The sun rising up in the distance attested to that. "I'm certain that I just fell asleep..." He muttered, covering his eyes with his forearm, blocking out the little light leaking through the windows of Maglor's room.

"Must feel that way." Maglor nodded. "It has only been a couple of hours."

"Truly?" Caranthir yawned again, removing his forearm and rubbing his eyes.

"Aye."

"Eru should've made the night last longer..." Caranthir groaned, burrowing deeper into Maglor's covers, hiding his face so that only his mussed dark hair was visible. "I don't want to get up."

"You never do." Maglor deadpanned, and Caranthir shrugged as best he could. "Anyways," Maglor started to say, "I was wondering, Caranthir..."

Caranthir hummed questioningly, sleepily trying to remain awake.

"How did you get here?"

Caranthir was silent for a moment, then...

"Maglor." He murmured, his tone low and calm.

"Hm?" Came the innocent response.

"Please tell me you didn't wake me up because you wanted to ask me a question."

"Well..." Maglor grinned, prolonging the word 'well.'

"I really do hate you, Maglor."

"I know." Maglor sympathetically patted Caranthir's head. "You never fail to remind me of how much you hate me."

"Honestly...I wanted to sleep in." Caranthir complained, his voice muffled from the fabric of Maglor's covers.

"I know that too, but I've been wanting to ask you that for a while now."

"...A few hours, idiot."

"That's a long while." Maglor reasoned and Caranthir growled again, rolling onto his back and casting his arm out to the side. Figuring that he wasn't comfortable enough, Caranthir dropped his head back onto Maglor's chest, causing the minstrel to release a grunt of discomfort. "So, when'd you return?" Maglor asked, hoping Caranthir would satiate his curiosity. Caranthir muttered incoherent things under his breath, words Maglor was sure were insults towards him for waking him up.

Finally, after Caranthir was done, he answered, "Five years ago."

Maglor blinked in shock. "Five years ago?" He repeated, a little incredulously. "Truly?"

Caranthir nodded against his shoulder. "Trust me, I couldn't believe it either."

"Five years? Aredhel and Turgon both arrived only two years past, and Elrond only a day. I have no idea about Thuringwethil, but five years?" Maglor confusedly said, speaking mostly to himself. "That is a long time."

Caranthir tiredly agreed, still trying to wake up.

"What happened?" Maglor pressed. He was still curious, and only after Caranthir had answered his question, would he allow him to sleep.

Here, Caranthir drew his brows together. "I'm not quite sure." He groggily admitted. "I don't remember much. It was shortly after my death, I remember that."

Maglor flinched, hating what Caranthir had said. Almost immediately, Caranthir's death was fresh in his mind and Maglor felt suffocated by the sharp surge of pain that he had felt on that day. The pain had dulled considerably during the next few thousand years, but it was still there.

Caranthir drew his eyes up to meet Maglor's pained ones, silently apologizing for bringing such a sensitive subject up.

Maglor shook his head, managing a small smile while subconsciously squeezing the life out of the poor Elf. Caranthir said nothing in complaint, knowing Maglor was only reminding himself that Caranthir was very much alive and well. He understood.

It was the same thing he'd done when he first looked to his Grandfather when he'd arrived.

"I thought it was a nightmare..." Caranthir whispered, eyes far away as he recalled the day he had arrived to the past. "Or a strange dream. Then I thought I was still dying and was merely hallucinating everything...But that dream kept going on and on, never ending...It took a while for me to realize I was here, in the past. Din had to tell me, to be honest." He sheepishly admitted, and Maglor heard Din's muffled giggles reverberate from deep within his mind. "I couldn't believe it. I couldn't bring myself to. After everything that had happened, why would I be given a chance...why would I be sent back to fix it?"

Maglor didn't have to step into Caranthir's shoes to understand what he meant. He understood perfectly what Caranthir was saying, for he had felt the same. He had even asked the same question many times.

"If anyone should have been sent back," Caranthir continued on,

"It should've been Nelyo." He and Maglor finished in unison, meeting each other's gazes.

"Yeah." Caranthir nodded, averting his gaze to stare at Maglor's dark blue covers. A fitting color for his brother, Caranthir believed. Blue. Blue and white. Even grey, he mentally added. Definitely not black. When Maglor had worn black, during those horrid times of the kinslayings and the burning of the Teleri Ships, it had disturbed Caranthir. It was a color that didn't go well with his brother. A color Maglor should never wear. To Caranthir, it was as if he was smothering what little light and innocence they had left. "Nelyo deserved this chance."

He didn't have to explain why for Maglor already knew. There were many reasons Nelyo should have been chosen for this task. He would have been a better choice than himself, the minstrel believed. Why hadn't he been chosen?

 _'Who's to say that he hasn't been?'_ Din cheekily asked Maglor, and the minstrel very nearly startled. Thankfully, he didn't, having already grown used to expecting Din to remind him of her presence at the most unexpected times.

' _What do you mean?'_ Maglor asked, curious and a little perplexed. Had Nelyo been chosen? But, that would mean that there were seven of them, not six.

 _'You will find out.'_ Din evasively responded, a little too cheerfully than Maglor would've liked.

Was she being sincere? Honestly, Maglor didn't understand why he expected for Din to actually answer any of his questions.

 _'I would if I could, believe me, Maglor. But, sadly, I can't.'_ Din told him, a little apologetically. _'Milady expects for you to figure out things on your own. I can only give hints.'_

Well, at least that answered that. Valar's orders. Maglor couldn't have Din going against whichever Vala had given him this chance.

But who had given him this chance? Who had given the six of them this opportunity to change everything?

He knew it had to be one of the female Valar, but which one? There was Varda, Nienna, Yavanna, Nessa, Vana, Vairë, and Estë. It could be any of them. He would need to find out. For now, he would listen to Caranthir's tale.

And on with his story he went...

* * *

 _ **Caranthir's return...**_

* * *

Caranthir was floating in a sea of darkness. He was motionless, eyes open but unseeing. Everywhere around him was black.

He could feel nothing...could hear nothing. All was silent.

He barely registered anything other than the fact that he was dead. The memory flickered through his mind. It was faint, but Caranthir knew what it was.

It was a strange thing to think about. His death.

He was dead, but where was he?

Finally mustering enough strength to move, Caranthir forced his head to turn to the side. He didn't know why he did it, since he already knew he wouldn't see anything but blackness.

Blinking, Caranthir returned to staring upwards.

Or was it downwards?

He wasn't sure what direction he was facing, nor did he care to find out. He was dead, what did it matter? For all he knew, he could be standing up instead of laying down.

But, if he was dead, shouldn't he be heading for the Halls of Mandos?

A brief streak of fear shot through him. What if...because of everything he had done, he was cast out? What if the Valar weren't accepting him because of the sins he bore? Would they truly reject him?

Could he blame them if they did?

Before these dark thoughts could swarm his mind, Caranthir felt warmth envelop him, comforting him and soothing him, driving away the fears that had started to build up within him.

 _"Caranthir..."_

It was but a breath of air, but Caranthir heard it. A kind, loving voice saying his name, calling out to him.

 _"Morifinwë..."_

The voice grew a little stronger, but it was still no louder than a whisper. It was melodious and angelic-like. Something Caranthir had never heard before.

 _"Awaken, my child..."_

Awaken? Caranthir distantly thought to himself, confused. What did she mean by awaken? He was dead. He couldn't wake up.

A gentle laugh.

 _"Death has yet to take you, little one."_

What?

But that made no sense...He was dead.

Finally killed.

A soft sigh could be heard in the darkness followed by a light breeze.

A gentle reprimand.

 _"Your death was undeserved, my child."_ the voice lightly scolded him. _"Do not believe such a terrible thing."_

After everything he'd done? How could they say such a thing?

Another brush of air and Caranthir felt the warmth from before blossom within him.

It was a wonderful feeling...One that reminded Caranthir of how he felt when his Ammë would hug him and tell him that she loved him...Even those annoying times when Maglor would tackle him for a 'hug.' Curufin wasn't the only one who suffered from those. Neither of the two were safe from Maglor's hugs. Even though Caranthir would act annoyed at the minstrel, he did like them. He enjoyed them, in fact. They had let him know that Maglor loved and cared for him. He'd never admit it, of course...

Oh how he missed those hugs now.

And he missed Ammë. Did she still love him? Even after they had all left her brokenhearted?

What of the person speaking to him?

 _"I have already forgiven you...Morifinwë."_

Who was this speaking to him? What did they want?

 _"I want you to open your eyes, my child."_ Came the answer, and Caranthir was beginning to question whether or not he had finally lost it. But...this was death. Was it even possible to become insane in death?

A tiny huff.

"Morifinwë," The voice was more powerful than before, yet still soft. A mere brush of the wind but Caranthir felt it. _"Wake, little one. You have slept long enough."_

Slept?

 _"Open your eyes, and you will understand my meaning."_

Why?

 _"You were given a chance..."_

A chance?

 _"Go. They are waiting."_

Who?

 _"Open your eyes, and you will see."_

And with that, Caranthir felt himself being pushed away, as if something were coaxing him to leave.

He vaguely registered the fact that he was a little panicked, but his panic was battered away by the warmth from before.

 _"Do not fear. I am with you. You will not be alone."_ The voice assured him, appeasing Caranthir.

What did she mean? Where was he going? Why was he going?

 _"All will be made known in time, my child..."_

It was silent after the voice had spoken, and Caranthir felt lonely. He continued to drift within the never ending darkness when images suddenly flashed across his mind.

 _A young, dark-haired, Elf shyly smiling up at him..._

 _The same adolescent laughing, his laugh the sound of the tinkling of bells as his shoulders shook from the force of his laughter._

Caranthir's brow furrowed. What were these memories?

 _The Elf from before flashing him an extremely panicked look. A look of pure horror before the ice beneath his feet cracked. The feeling of urgency and terror that overcame him the moment he heard the sickening crack and watched the adolescent vanish underneath the ice._

Caranthir couldn't ever recall these memories. When did they happen?

He knew the Elfling, but he didn't remember this ever happening in this lifetime.

 _A shocking wave of cold water swallowing him up when he dived after the young Elf, eyes blearily catching sight of the adolescent's outstretched hand reaching for his own...Scared blue eyes capturing his brown ones and holding them._

 _Bubbles floating past him as the adolescent choked on the water filling his lungs, silently pleading for him to save himself._

 _Shaking his head firmly and kicking harder to reach him, watching as the life started to flee from the adolescent's eyes...One last plea for him to go reflected in those half-opened orbs..._

Dropping his head back, Caranthir did his best to understand these unknown memories of his. Where were they coming from? Were they his? Someone else's? Why was he seeing them?

 _Grabbing hold of the young Elf, pulling him securely against him._

Agilely twisting so that he was facing upwards and kicking his feet furiously, fighting to reach the surface before it was too late.

 _The young Elf growing limp against him, dark hair mixing with his own as he forced himself to swim faster._

 _Discovering that he was trapped beneath the ice, unable to find an opening._

The dark-Elf felt a twinge of dread and familiarity. These memories were his own...Yet, they weren't the same memories he knew. They were different, changed somehow. It was odd, and even more puzzling. He faintly recalled that very day, when the Elfling slipped on the ice, cracking it, but he never submerged beneath the water underneath.

 _Growing weaker from the lack of oxygen...Pounding against the ice with his hand, begging for it to break from the force he mustered behind the hits._

 _Releasing an anguished shout when he finally couldn't hold his breath anymore... Dark spots dotting his vision, blackness closing in as he struggled._

The next thing Caranthir knew, he was cold. Frigid cold, as if someone had dunked a bucket of ice down his shirt. He shivered violently, teeth chattering.

What was this?

 _Strength fleeing his body as he frantically searched for a way out._

 _Slowly drifting downwards as he continued to lose strength._

 _Watching as the ice above him started breaking..._

 _Shoving the adolescent up into the hands he saw reaching for them..._

The coldness intensified to the point where Caranthir could've sworn he was turning into an icicle. He felt as though he was being stabbed by a thousands pins and needles.

 _Seeing another pair of hands stretch out towards him, unable to grasp a firm hold of his hand as their fingers brushed against one another's..._

 _Slipping further into the freezing lake, a small smile stretching his lips from the comforting knowledge that the young Elf would be safe._

 _Catching a glimpse of red diving into the waters after him, a familiar, blurred, face filled with determination fed by the terror they felt._

 _The last thing he sees is the red Elf snapping his hand out and grasping his wrist, yanking him up and wrapping a strong arm around him... and then he knew no more._

He didn't know how long the cold lasted, but gradually, once the memories ended, he felt himself moving upwards, as if something were pulling him up. He was still freezing, even though the cold slowly started to release its hold on him.

And then, there was another voice. It was broken and far-away, but it was there. He could barely understand what it was saying.

"Mo...f...ë!"

He tiredly slid his eyes open, wondering where this voice was coming from. Moving dark orbs left and right, Caranthir discovered that he was, as he'd expected, alone in the mist of darkness encompassing him.

Then, who was calling out to him? Why couldn't he see them?

"Mo...o!"

The voice was becoming clearer, and Caranthir had the strangest sense of déjà vu. He knew this voice...But, from where?

He couldn't remember.

He was too tired to remember. His body was begging for him to sleep, to slip away and become one with the darkness.

He allowed his eyes to drift shut, willing himself to give in to his need for sleep. A sleep he may never wake from again.

That was fine. It actually sounded rather pleasant.

"Moryo!"

His eyes snapped back open, searching in vain for the owner of the voice. They sounded so desperate, but it was the actual voice that caught and held Caranthir's attention. And the name. He hadn't gone by 'Moryo' in ages. Who was calling him by that name? There were times his brothers would slip back into calling him Moryo, but it was rare...and his brothers couldn't possibly be here. But...

That voice...

" _Moryo!"_ It urgently pleaded, the voice breaking in fear and panic.

"Mae...dhros..?" Caranthir managed to utter aloud. Had Maedhros actually found him? Had Maedhros come to find him, Celegorm, and Curufin? Had he brought Maglor with him?

"Toron, please!" Maedhros's voice begged again, and Caranthir felt himself trembling, as if he was being shaken by some unseen force. The blackness quaked, the vibration loud in his ears, which struck Caranthir as odd.

Toron?

"Breathe! By the Valar, _breathe!"_

It _was_ getting harder for him to breathe, Caranthir discovered, and the dark Elf was becoming even more lost, drowning in his confusion. His breathing growing labored, Caranthir fought to understand what was happening.

"Moryo!"

He felt a touch against his cheek and a breath ghost across his face.

"Don't...Please, don't..." And he was being shaken again. "Wake _UP_!" Maedhros's voice cracked as he shouted, a sense of hopelessness lacing his tone.

Caranthir felt the urge to comfort him, to let him know that all would be well. He wanted to let his brother know that he was alright, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't move. He was immobilized.

He was dead.

No matter how many times Caranthir said that, he found that he couldn't believe it. The voice from before claimed that he wasn't dead...

It also said that he needed to open his eyes, which made no sense since they were already open.

A niggling sensation in the back of his mind told Caranthir that his eyes weren't open like he believed them to be, but, again, that was impossible.

A heart-shattering cry followed by a muffled shout echoed in the darkness and Caranthir's eyes flew wide open once again. Maedhros's cry made Caranthir cringe, his own heart aching from the sound. It was a terrible thing to hear, Maedhros crying. It was something Caranthir found he couldn't stand. His brother was strong...He was brave...He was Maedhros. Caranthir never saw or heard him cry. He had once or twice before, but other than that...never. And he never wanted to. It was...unnerving, to say the least.

"Moryo..." Maedhros's voice quietly mumbled, his breath hitching.. An unknown weight settled itself against his chest, above his heart, as if it were trying to listen for a heartbeat.

Caranthir knew there wouldn't be one.

Wait a moment...

Caranthir frowned to himself. Maedhros's voice...

He listened again, straining his ears, wondering at the abnormality he had heard in Maedhros's voice.

"Toron."

It was...smoother than he remembered, not rough or hardened like the Maedhros he knew.

It almost sounded like...

"Nelyo..?" Caranthir barely managed to say, choking a bit. There was something blocking his airways and his chest felt oddly tight.

Suddenly, it was as if Caranthir had regained feeling. He felt as if he'd been poked and pricked by thousands of needles. Valar he was _cold_! His chest burned as he struggled to breathe, having abruptly lost the ability to. His airways were blocked, and no matter what Caranthir did, he couldn't even gasp for breath.

Sharp, wrenching fear clutched at Caranthir's being as he fought to unblock whatever it was clogging his airways.

" _BREATHE_!" another harsh, pleading, cry. A demand enforced by a sudden pressure against his chest.

Caranthir was violently ripped away from the darkness surrounding him when his body jerked on its own accord, forcing him to vomit up the water he had somehow swallowed. Eyes flying open, Caranthir was greeted by a blinding light and he snapped them shut while he painfully coughed up the rest of the water he miraculously discovered was the reason he couldn't breathe in the first place.

Caranthir barely felt arms wrap around him tightly, drawing him up and pressing his head against someone's soaking wet shoulder. The upper half of his body was cradled against a strong chest, one arm firmly wrapped around his back, and someone dropped their head against his chest, sobbing in relief as Caranthir greedily gasped for air. He was pressed more firmly against them, as if the person was trying to convince himself that Caranthir was alive.

Water trickled from his mouth as Caranthir struggled to reopen his eyes to see who his savior was.

Whoever it was was trembling, he could feel it.

He managed to open his eyes into slits, for he was too weak to open them even more. He was able to catch a glimpse of red blocking his vision before his head rolled to the side and his eyes closed.

He felt so weak.

So tired.

His body was numb. He couldn't feel a thing except for a tingling sensation at the tips of his fingers.

Most peculiar.

He was pretty sure that he didn't die from drowning.

"Thank Eru, Moryo!" The voice belonging to the Elf Caranthir once knew as Nelyo breathed into his ear, a sob accompanying his name. "I thought I'd lost you..."

Caranthir said nothing, unable to do anything. All he could do was remain limp, allowing this Nelyo to hold him.

He didn't dare believe this.

It was a dream.

Something his imagination had conjured up in death to make him feel better.

But it didn't make him feel better. Nelyo wasn't here. He was still alive. He was Maedhros. Having Nelyo with him in death wasn't at all comforting. It made him feel worse. How could he face his brother after all of his failures? How could he look him in the eye after failing _him?_ He _died._ He had been weak. He had shamed his brother.

The person raised their head to look down at Caranthir, and the dark Elf was able to open his eyes once again. It took a lot of effort, but he managed.

His eyes had to be deceiving him. This Elf...Couldn't be Nelyo, and yet, he looked exactly like him.

The same dark blue orbs dancing with fear, pain, and overwhelming joy... Eyes glistening with tears that had yet to be shed... A perfect, fair, face streaked with tears that had already fallen and a unique shade of shocking red hair that no other Elf but Nelyo had. It was even in the same, preferred, hairstyle Nelyo always wore it in when they were younger.

Much younger.

He wore the braids Caranthir had once clumsily made when Nelyo had allowed him to braid his hair. Why he had still chosen to wear those braids Caranthir had imagined up was beyond the Elf, but after Caranthir, who had been an Elfling at the time, had braided Nelyo's hair, Nelyo had braided it in the same style.

He always wore them proudly too. They also helped keep his hair from getting in his face, something that aided him greatly when training with their Father.

Nelyo's eyes darted about his brother's face before locking gazes with him, one hand coming to rest over Caranthir's heart, as if he still needed to ensure himself that his brother was very much alive.

"Moryo..." Nelyo's blue eyes started to shimmer again and his lower lip quivered a bit before he crushed Caranthir against him. His shoulders shook but Caranthir didn't hear him crying. "Eru...I was so scared...I thought I was too late." Nelyo mumbled, trying to calm himself by inhaling and exhaling deeply.

This had scared him so much...

Nearly losing his brother.

Moryo had looked so near death after he'd pulled him out that Nelyo had, for one split-second, believed his fëa had already left for the Halls of Mandos.

Caranthir only blinked, slowly, like it required a lot of effort on his part, not comprehending anything.

Nelyo shook his head, Caranthir receiving a face full of wet hair.

"You idiot...You blundering idiot..." Nelyo rambled on, fingers bunching up the fabric of Caranthir's tunic as he tightened his grip, the relief he felt overwhelming him. His selfless little brother had risked his life...And very nearly died because of it.

Caranthir was lost, but he had decided it wasn't worth trying to prove to himself that it wasn't real. If this was his way to deal with death, then so be it.

If it meant seeing Nelyo one last time... He was fine.

Would Maglor be there? If he was, he wanted to see him.

Searching as best he could, Caranthir half-expected for Maglor to materialize beside Maedhros.

He never did.

Where was he? Where Maedhros was, Maglor was often not far behind.

Nelyo couldn't describe how he felt, but he was eternally grateful for Eru sparing his brother. If he had been a second too late...

No! He wouldn't think like that! Moryo was here now. He was alive. Half-drowned, but alive.

Poor Caranthir still couldn't feel his body, but he somehow brought himself to breathe out his brother's name.

Nelyo's breath caught on another sob, squeezing his eyes shut when more tears threatened to fall. He didn't try to stop them. Valar, he was too happy to care.

He couldn't bring himself to release his brother, but he raised his head up when he heard the sound of fast approaching footsteps in time to see Fëanaro streak out of the snow-covered trees of the forest, panic and unbridled fear burning brightly in his piercing blue eyes and marring his normally stoic features. Curufinwë was hot on his heels, looking as though he wasn't sure what to feel at the moment. There were so many emotions whirling within him that Curufinwë was having a difficult time naming each one of them. There was definitely fear, panic, a sense of desperation, and hope...

But he wasn't sure exactly what he felt. There was just a jumble of mixed emotions making themselves known to him that Curufinwë felt ready to have a breakdown of some kind.

In the corner of his eye, he could see Nolofinwë rushing past Fëanaro and to Findekano, who was knelt down a little farther away from Nelyo. Findekano had a vice-like hold on his younger brother, Turukano. The fear he had felt the moment Turukano had gone under the ice covering the lake was still evident in the expression he wore. Turukano was as pale as a ghost and shivering uncontrollably, blue orbs wide with shock and fear as they locked onto Moryo's still body within Nelyo's arms. His black, long, hair and warm clothes dripped with water.

Neither of them moved, the shock they had been given still needing to release the hold it had on them.

* * *

 _ **~Caranthir's Return~**_

It had happened so suddenly. Without any warning, Curufinwë would later recall.

Everything had happened to fast.

He had been trailing after Moryo, bored to death, when all of a sudden, a shriek pierced the air and Moryo was only a dark blur zipping over to the ice-covered lake.

Nelyo and Findekano had been much farther ahead of them, but the moment they heard Turukano's terrified cry along with the sound of ice cracking, had instantly whipped around and bolted in their direction.

They wouldn't reach Turukano in time; he'd already gone under by the time they had turned around. Moryo had reacted faster than Curufinwë had imagined was possible. He was gone like the wind, throwing himself after Turukano without hesitation.

At first, Curufinwë had just stood there, frozen in confusion, before it hit him.

Turukano had fallen through the ice, and Moryo had gone to save him.

He watched, in stunned disbelief, as Nelyo and Findekano ran across the ice to the gaping hole in the center of the lake, shouting the names of their brothers. His elder brother and cousin anxiously searched for any sign of Turukano and Moryo, calling out to them. Nelyo's hands hovered above the ice, the Elf wondering where and if they would reappear.

Findekano had fallen to his knees beside him, desperately looking into the hole in the ice for his younger brother and Moryo. He couldn't see them. The water was as clear as mud, and Findekano was at a loss for what to do.

Curufinwë never once moved from his spot, his feet glued to the ground while he stared at the ice.

Every second that passed felt like hours to the three Elves. The silence was deafening...

And then, they heard the sound of someone pounding against the ice. Nelyo shot over to where he heard it coming from, Findekano at his side. Curufinwë could barely see Moryo beneath the ice, only able to catch a blurred figure floating underneath Nelyo and Findekano, holding something against him while slamming his hand against the thick ice above him.

He could sense Moryo fading, becoming exhausted and overcome by the freezing waters of the lake. He knew Nelyo felt it too, for his elder brother was driving his fists against the ice madly, hoping to break it before it was too late.

All of them heard Moryo's anguished shout and Nelyo mustered all of his strength behind one last punch, swinging his fist down against the ice in an attempt to shatter it.

He managed to crack it, and at this, both Findekano and Nelyo set to work in breaking it even more until it finally shattered, fear keeping them from feeling any pain. They had created a hole in no time at all, and Findekano snatched at Moryo and Turukano.

He missed, Moryo having already started to sink from having drained all of his energy in trying to break the ice. Nelyo also reached out, a split-second after Findekano had.

Moryo, Curufinwë saw, had pushed Turukano up towards them, and Findekano immediately grabbed the young Elf, dragging him out of the lake. He had snatched him up and ran at break-neck speed for the lake shore, crashing to his knees and carefully, but quickly, setting Turukano down. He didn't even check for a pulse before pressing down on Turukano's chest, fearfully.

Curufinwë heard Turukano cough out the water he'd swallowed and Findekano's relieved exclamation just as Nelyo released an alarmed cry. The Elf dived into the hole they'd created.

He felt his heart drop, knowing that that meant Moryo had sunk.

He was drowning.

For several, long, agonizing moments, Curufinwë waited. He didn't even realize he was holding his own breath or hear Turukano breathlessly calling out for Moryo as they watched the hole in the ice, hoping to see Nelyo and Moryo emerge from the dark waters.

They didn't.

Fear tightened the knots in Curufinwë's stomach.

' _Please...Oh please don't take them!'_ Curufinwë remembered begging the Valar. ' _I can't lose them like I lost Makalaur_ ë... _Please!'_

As if answering his prayers, Nelyo broke through the surface, one arm scrambling to get a good hold on the ice and pull himself out. His fingers scraped against the slick ice and Nelyo fought to keep a good hold on it.

Curufinwë didn't know when he'd started moving, but the next thing he knew, he was pulling Nelyo's arm and chasing after him once he managed to get him out.

Curufinwë remembered how his heart had stopped beating at the sight of a deathly pale Moryo in Nelyo's arms, his head lolling against Nelyo's shoulder.

He wasn't breathing.

Nelyo had very nearly thrown himself to the ground, lowering Moryo down and basically pounding his chest, hoping to get Moryo to breathe.

Nothing would work.

Curufinwë hadn't stayed to see what Nelyo would do. He couldn't stay, watching as Nelyo pleaded and begged for Moryo to open his eyes. He had shot off into the woods, filled with fear and horror.

Moryo was dead.

Or dying.

The thought was enough to supply Curufinwë with the energy required to run from the lake to his home. He never stopped for breath or slowed, knowing that Moryo's life may depend on his reaching their Father in time.

His panicked shouts reached Nolofinwë and Finwë, who were strolling through the snow-covered lands of Fëanaro's homes. They were also enough to send Fëanaro flying out of his home to see what was wrong with his son.

"Curufinwë!" Finwë barely had time to grab the Elf and when he did, Curufinwë fought against his hold, earnestly calling out for his Father.

"Ionya!" Fëanaro materialized beside Finwë, reaching out and taking hold of his son form Finwë's grasp, blue eyes searching his son's for the answer to the many questions zipping through his mind.

Nolofinwë and Finwë were staring at him with a mixture of worry and concern, wondering what on Eru's green Earth could cause Curufinwë to go berserk.

"Atto! Atto!" Curufinwë grasped his Father's hands, fiercely tugging them, demanding for him to follow. "Come quick! You have to come!"

"Nay, Ionya!" Fëanaro sharply told his son, firmly, but gently, gripping Curufinwë's shoulder once he managed to shake off his son's hold. "Tell me what is wrong."

Curufinwë was near hysterical, bouncing on the balls of his feet while mentally counting down how much time he possibly had. "Moryo! It's Moryo!" He blurted out, yanking his Father's arm and trying to lead him to the lake.

Fëanaro felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dunked over him. His chest grew tight as a million different scenarios sped through his mind, each worst than the one that came before.

"What about him, Curvo? What of Moryo?" Fëanaro demanded to know, stilling his son's movements by cupping his face in his hands and forcing him to look him in the eye.

Hadn't his sons been on a simple walk through the woods? What could have possibly gone wrong?

Erase that, Fëanaro mentally told himself. With his sons, anything could happen. He had learned that early on when Nelyo and Makalaurë were tiny Elflings. Now he had seven, and still, strange things, sometimes incomprehensible, seemed to happen to them.

"He...He..." Curufinwë tried to think of how to answer the question. He's dead?

But what if Moryo wasn't dead?

He was drowning? He drowned?

Oh, enough of this! He could care less about the words that left him!

Without taking a single breath, Curufinwë launched into an abbreviated tale of what had happened, his words stuck together as he hastily tried to take as little time as he could.

"Turukano-"

Nolofinwë sharply looked to Curufinwë at the mention of his son's name, a sense of fear flashing through his eyes. Finwë didn't even realize he had reached out and touched his second eldest's arm as a gesture of comfort, already drawn into the tale that was to come.

"-fell through the ice-"

Here, both Nolofinwë and Finwë went rigid and there was even a small flicker of concern in Fëanaro's eyes. Surprisingly enough, it remained, Fëanaro freely allowing them all to see.

"-and Moryo went to get him out. He got him out, but Moryo didn't make it." Here, Curufinwë stumbled over his words when they were cut off by a sob.

Fëanaro grip had tightened throughout the tale, fingertips digging into his shoulders. Curufinwë didn't even noticed, too worried to care.

"What?" It was the only thing Fëanaro could say as Curufinwë's words sunk deep into his mind. And when they did... "What do you mean?!" Fëanaro snapped at Curufinwë, eyes wide, accidentally jerking his son when he finally made sense of what Curufinwë had just told him.

Curufinwë shook his head wildly. What was he waiting for?! They didn't have time for this! They needed to act now!

"Moryo...He...He was drowning! Nelyo tried to get him out but- Atto, he wasn't breathing!" Tears finally started to fall as Curufinwë gave into the fear that his brother was dead.

"Where?" Fëanaro demanded to know, his gaze still holding his son's.

"The lake."

No sooner had the words left his lips did Fëanaro bolt away, running faster than they had ever seen him go. Nolofinwë shot after him while Finwë fearfully, while trying to remain calm, grasped hold of Curufinwë's arm. Anyone could tell that he was also scared for Moryo, and already, Finwë was praying that his grandson would live.

"Curufinwë?" Finwë softly called out, and Curufinwë dazedly turned his head in his direction.

"What if he's dead..?" Curufinwë choked out, his entire being shaking in barely suppressed fear. His eyes went wider than Finwë thought possible as he repeated the question aloud, adding Moryo's name in it. "What if Moryo's _dead!?_ " He snapped his head up to face Finwë, staring past him, horror stealing over his features. "Moryo!" Curufinwë shouted, whipping around, ready to fly back into the woods. Finwë tried to reach out.

Whether it was to catch him or comfort him, he didn't know.

He watched as Curvo sped away after his Father and before he knew it, he was chasing after him.

Now, Finwë had never truly had the opportunity to drop his title and everything that went with being a Lord since he was an Elfling; but, right now, nothing mattered to Finwë except finding out whether or not Moryo was truly gone.

Only a few Elves, servants of Fëanaro, caught sight of their Lord sprinting away from the Home and into the woods.

* * *

Losing another grand-child...

Finwë didn't want to believe it possible. He had already lost one- Makalaurë. Sweet, charming, little Makalaurë. Finwë could remember when he'd first held Makalaurë when he was but a frail babe. So weak, and fragile Finwë feared his second grandchild would die sometime in his infancy.

He never did. Makalaurë, by some unknown miracle, had pulled through and survived.

Fëanaro and Nerdanel fervently declared that it was all Nelyo's doing, and Finwë knew it was probably so, having witnessed the strong bond between his two eldest grandchildren.

Makalaurë never did lose his fragility. He always struck Finwë and his family as delicate and vulnerable, and yet so strong. So bright.

The Elven glow that had enveloped his being was unlike any Finwë had ever seen.

Makalaurë, Finwë remembered, always wore a smile that could brighten even the darkest of nights. His expressive eyes always sparkled, and that same trademark smirk- more of a sideways grin for Kano- Fëanaro was well-known for would often creep onto his features.

His love for music, and even dancing (Finwë had discovered that by accident), added to Makalaurë's timid personality. He had always been a shy, yet outgoing, Elfling. Yet, at the same time, he was courageous and friendly. There was a hidden fire that blazed in his eyes... the same fire that burned in his other siblings' and Father's eyes. One that spoke of strength and determination.

As well as stubbornness. A trait they had, unfortunately, inherited from their Father.

Makalaurë was not one to be underestimated. He always had his way of taking people by surprise. He was gentle, but firm. Kind and stern.

It was an odd mix, but Makalaurë never had trouble balancing them out.

Everyone had adored Makalaurë, and now that he was gone... Everything had changed. Fëanaro's sons were grim and less enthusiastic. Nelyo had grown fiercely protective of his remaining brothers, practically raising the twins in his parents' stead and encouraging his other brothers to better their skills. For example, he would help Curvo in the Forge, providing tips and proudly as Curvo perfected another one of his projects. Tyelko, he urged to practice his archery. It wasn't long before Tyelko became an expert in using a bow. It had been Makalaurë who had caught onto the fact that Tyelko was made for archery, having watched a young Tyelko practice aiming with his play bow. For Moryo, Nelyo would work with in strategy. The two would often be seen playing chess or overlooking several different, made-up, battle plans and Moryo would conjure up different battle tactics that would, more often than not, work.

They still had yet to discover what Ambarto and Pityo were skilled in, but as of now, they were well-rehearsed in wreaking havoc about the entire household of Fëanaro. The nine year old twins absolutely loved their elder brothers and could be seen waddling after Nelyo. Nelyo would make sure to set some time apart to play with them, and sometimes, Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo would join in the fun.

It was during these rare days that Finwë would see his grandsons laughing and being...happy. On rare occasions, Fëanaro would also leave the Forge and mess around with his sons.

Nerdanel and Finwë took it upon themselves to look after Nelyo, but they didn't have to worry. The younger sons of Fëanaro made sure their eldest brother was well taken care of.

Finwë didn't have any more time to think over his grandsons when he finally arrived to the lake. It was here that he watched Fëanaro, who was trying his best not to give into his fear, rush over to Nelyo's side.

* * *

There was no coherent thought going through Fëanaro's mind as he booked it to the lake. He had never run this fast and this far in his entire 200 and some odd years of life.

But run he did, and never stopped. Not even when his lungs were burning, begging for him to pause and take a deep breath in order to fill them.

Gasping lightly, Fëanaro nimbly made his way through the woods, easily maneuvering around whatever obstacle stood in his way. Ducking beneath a low, thick, branch, Fëanaro caught sight of sparkling blue in the distance. He sped up, crossing the distance between himself and the lake.

As soon as he flew from the darkness of the woods, Fëanaro skidded to a stop, eyes darting over Findekano, noting the drenched Turukano he held and the stricken expression his eldest nephew wore.

He snapped his head in Nelyo's direction, his heart dropping when he saw the limp Elf Nelyo held tightly against him. Running his eyes over his son's form, Fëanaro could feel his fear skyrocketing at the sight of Nelyo's red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face. Nelyo raised his head to look up at his Father, blue orbs filled with a glimmer of sheer terror and worry.

He didn't know when he moved, but Fëanaro found himself kneeling before Nelyo, shaky hands reaching out to Moryo. With trembling fingers, Fëanaro delicately touched one cheek and turned Moryo's head so that he might see his son's pale face.

Moryo made no sound or movement, not even a twitch, and that made Fëanaro fear the worst. Brushing aside the wet hair sticking to Moryo's face, Fëanaro nearly sagged with relief when Moryo's dark brown orbs slid open to slits, disorientation swimming in them.

"Moryo!"

Upon hearing Fëanaro's shaky exhale, Moryo eyes widened and darted over towards him. Once they landed on the familiar face he knew to be his Father's, Moryo suddenly thrashed in Nelyo's hold.

"What? Moryo!" Nelyo tried to calm his brother, holding him loosely but firmly.

Moryo coughed and choked on air while murmuring, "Dead, dead, dead!" Over and over as best he could.

Fëanaro instantly went to calm him, carefully holding his son's head in his hands.

"Moryo! Ionya! Calm yourself!"

Moryo wouldn't calm. He started to hyperventilate, incoherently muttering foreign words underneath his breath, worrying everyone who was watching the event unfold. His gasps took on an edge of desperation when he would look to and fro at Fëanaro and Nelyo and his fingers clawed at his throat when he finally ran out of breath.

Finally, Nelyo placed him on the ground and he pinned down one of Moryo's arm while Fëanaro held down the other.

"Calm, Moryo! Breathe!" Nelyo encouraged, brushing his fingers through Moryo's wet hair, trying to soothe his brother's panic and confusion. Moryo shook his head, as if in denial, bending one arm in order to grasp Nelyo's hand.

Nelyo winced from Moryo's grip, a little surprised by his strength, but didn't pull away.

"Mae...Mae..." He attempted to say, while Fëanaro and Nelyo tried to make sense of what he was trying to tell them.

"What is it, Moryo?" Nelyo quietly said to his brother, hoping that by speaking to him, Moryo would settle down. It wouldn't do him well to get so worked up after nearly drowning.

They still had to move him to Nalara's halls of Healing to get him checked. But with Moryo in this state, Nelyo didn't want to try moving him.

"Maedhros..." Moryo breathlessly murmured, gurgling on some of the water he managed to cough up from his lungs. "Sorry...So sorry..." He weakly apologized, doing his best to keep his sight on Nelyo. His eyes were steadily blurring, and all he could see was red. He focused on the red, not daring to look in the other direction.

"Maedhros?" Fëanaro repeated, thoroughly confused, but Moryo seemed not to hear him. Or he was ignoring him.

"Sorry for what Moryo?" Nelyo gently asked his brother, slowly lifting Moryo up into his arms and swaying back and forth in a soothing manner. This had always helped to calm Moryo when he was an Elfling. He'd suffered from terrible nightmares as an Elfling, and the only way to get him to fall back asleep was to rock him back and forth till he finally nodded off.

A mere breath of air, so soft that Nelyo had to strain his ears in order to hear him, "Failed..."

It took Nelyo a couple of seconds to understand Moryo's meaning- or thought that he understood- and when he did, he set out to assure him. "No, Moryo." He huffed out a small laugh, resting his chin on the top of Moryo's head, tightening his hold on his brother reassuringly. "You didn't fail, little one."

"Did...Sorry..."

"No. Turukano is safe, Moryo... You got him out in time..." Nelyo soothed. Moryo was silent afterwards, blankly staring ahead.

"Safe..." Moryo breathed out, then without warning, slumped over in Nelyo's hold.

Fëanaro surged forward with a startled exclamation, pressing two fingers underneath Moryo's jaw to search for a pulse the moment he watched Moryo sag against Nelyo.

For a tense second, Fëanaro, Nelyo, and the others waited, neither daring to breathe.

Fëanaro exhaled deeply, dropping his head forward and closing his eyes in relief. "He's only unconscious." He informed them, receiving relieved sighs from the Elves gathered around them. "He must've overdone it." Fëanaro carefully gathered Moryo from Nelyo, cradling his son's form against his chest and standing. Moryo's head rolled against his shoulder, and Fëanaro lovingly smiled down at him. It was one of those rare times when Fëanaro would actually smile. "I will take him to Nalara." Turning slightly to face Nolofinwë, Fëanaro eyes Turukano.

Turukano curled into himself when he found himself pinned by Fëanaro's intense gaze, unable to look into those blazing blue eyes. Findekano reassuringly patted his head and Turukano shyly raised his head to look up at his uncle.

Fëanaro said nothing for a moment, regarding Turukano in silence before finally speaking. "Bring him, Findekano. Nalara should take a look at him as well."

Findekano started lightly from having been spoken to, but quickly nodded.

Before he could move, however, Nolofinwë leaned forward and took Turukano into his own arms. Swiftly standing, Nolofinwë followed after Fëanaro. Findekano, Nelyo, Finwë and Curvo walked behind them, Finwë draping an arm around Curvo and drawing his grandson close. Curvo glanced up at him with a worried look, which Finwë responded with a light smile. One that promised that Moryo, and Turu, would be alright.

* * *

 ** _~Caranthir's Return~_**

It was late into the night and Finwë was seated in a comfy chair beside Moryo's bedside, patiently waiting for his grandson to awaken. Nalara had checked on him earlier and had told Fëanaro and Finwë that he would be fine. Moryo had only swallowed a lot of water but other than that, he would be okay. She had advised them that Moryo needed to rest for a couple of days and take it lightly.

Finwë smirked. Moryo would not like that. He hated being confined and limited.

Even when he'd broken his leg, Moryo would find things to keep him occupied. He would go down to the Forge and craft beautiful bracelets and necklaces, seeing as forging weapons of any kind would be too strenuous. He would wander about the woods, watching his brothers train, and take trips to the waterfall. Of course, he would regret never resting come nightfall, and Moryo would spend a painful night trying to ignore his aching leg. He never stopped busying himself, though, and Finwë recalled how irritated Fëanaro had become upon learning that his son was not resting as he should be. One day, he had basically thrown Moryo over his shoulder and took him back to the house, ignoring how Moryo hissed and shot dark looks at his Father. Fëanaro had then ordered young Turukano to watch over Moryo and make sure that he stayed in bed, _all_ day.

Turukano, who at the time was terrified of Fëanaro, squeaked out that he would do as his uncle had commanded. Poor Turu was shaking the entire time, shirking away from Moryo when the dark elf would growl at him, glowering darkly at the frightened Elfling.

Little Turu had done his best to be brave, but his shyness refused to let him relax. While Moryo seethed, Turu was internally panicking, hoping his cousin wouldn't hate him for following Fëanaro's orders.

It wasn't unusual for Turu to occasionally flee to the kitchens, pick up some snacks, and return back to Moryo's room to watch over the Elf. Though Moryo was only a few years older than him, and barely a couple inches taller, Turu felt very small compared to him.

Sometimes, Turukano would take trips to the library, scouring for any strategic books he could find that would keep Moryo's active mind occupied. The little Elfling, who Finwë knew had the biggest heart of the entire family, excluding Makalaurë, felt for his cousin. It was for that reason Turu did his best to make sure Moryo was comfortable and would fetch whatever it was Moryo asked for.

Moryo still took out his anger on his cousin, hissing and baring his teeth at the Elfling. He was still quite furious about Fëanaro forcing him to rest.

Then came one day when Turu never appeared.

Finwë and Findekano had learned from one of the servants that Turu had yet to visit the kitchen to claim a snack for himself and Moryo.

A little worried, the two set out to Moryo's room, wondering if Moryo had finally snapped and poor Turu had taken the brunt of his anger. Moryo was known for his short temper.

Thankfully, he had grown more calm over the years.

They arrived to find Turukano and Moryo playing a game of chess, enjoying one another's company.

They found out that Turu had picked up on the fact that Moryo loved strategy and had gone to Nelyo to retrieve the chess game. He convinced Moryo into teaching him how to play, and after catching onto how to play, was now a formidable opponent to Moryo. Turu's mind was sharp, Finwë knew. He might be young, but Turu was wise beyond his years. He could pick up on things most others couldn't and learned quickly.

Finwë released a quiet sigh, turning his head to check on Moryo. He hadn't moved, and Finwë was beginning to wonder if Moryo had any intention of waking any time soon. Fëanaro and Nerdanel were beside themselves with worry, not to mention that Finwë had to kick Nelyo out to get some rest. Finwë, himself, was very concerned. If Moryo didn't wake up soon, he was going to call Nalara back in to check on him. Resting his head in his hand, Finwë returned to reading the book that sat in his lap. He stared long and hard at the open pages, realizing that he had only been thumbing through the book instead of actually reading it.

A frown playing on his lips, the Lord pinched the bridge of his nose. "Valar...It had to be my family." he murmured beneath his breath. First, his Miriel had died, Fëanaro openly disliked Indis, hated Nolofinwë and Arafinwë, his son moved out of Tirion because of this hatred... And then more tragedy struck their home with the disappearance of Makalaurë, and Moryo's near-drowning. What would happen next?

So caught up in his thoughts was Finwë that he didn't notice or hear Moryo stirring. The dark Elf cracked open his eyes, staring up at the bland, white ceiling belonging to the Halls of Healing. Blinking multiple times, Moryo attempted to make sense of his muddled thoughts and memories. Why was he in the Halls of Healing? What had happened? Where was he?

Rolling his head to the side, Moryo's bleary gaze fell onto the sight of Finwë slumped over in his seat, blankly staring down at the book he held.

Moryo started, eyes widening. Was that...Could it be?

But he was dead, wasn't he?

"A...Andatar?" Moryo croaked out, coughing when his parched throat protested against speaking.

Finwë snapped his head in his direction, hardly noticing that his book had slipped from his lap when he heard his grandson's voice. "Moryo!" He flew to his grandson's bedside with joy and immense relief clinging to his features. "Thank the Valar, you've awoken!"

Moryo shot him a strange look, though there was a hint of disbelief in his gaze. "A...woken?" Valar, why did he feel so weak and exhausted? Why was his dead Grandfather speaking to him? Had he actually been brought to the Halls of Mandos?

Finwë grabbed a nearby glass of water and propped Moryo up into a sitting position, noting the marginal widening of Moryo's chocolate-colored orbs. Seating himself on the edge of the medical bed, Finwë proffered the glass of water to Moryo, only to find his grandson gaping at him. Well, it was more of a shocked expression that Moryo wore as he stared at Finwë.

Lowering the glass, Finwë concernedly called out to his grandson. "Moryo? Are you feeling well? Is something wrong?"

Moryo didn't seem to hear him. "Real..?" the young Elf whispered, poking Finwë's arm as if testing to see whether or not Finwë were some sort of ghostly apparition.

Finwë didn't bother to hide his growing concern, worriedly peering down at Moryo as the Elf shrunk back in his hold.

"Moryo?" He laid a hand against his grandson's forehead, checking for a fever. Maybe Moryo was delirious.

He was cool, casting out the possibility that Moryo was ill. Then, why was he acting so strange?

"Pain..." Moryo murmured, raising a hand to his head with a wince of pain. "I feel...pain..." He sounded shocked and disbelieving that Finwë slowly started to back away, ready to call for Nalara. Moryo was acting very strange. Very out of character. He knew he had nearly died from drowning, but would he really be like this after waking? Moryo lifted his head, pinning Finwë in place with an expression the Lord had never seen on Moryo before.

Sorrow, grief, hope...

All of these emotions he could see brewing in those eyes as Moryo reached out to him. "Andatar?"

Finwë took hold of his hand. "Yes, Moryo?"

He was taken aback when Moryo threw his arms tightly around him, squeezing the living daylights out of him. "Moryo?" He wheezed out, awkwardly patting Moryo's head. What was this? Moryo never showed any hint of affection for anyone, yet here he was, suffocating his poor, old Grandfather with the tight embrace he'd trapped him in.

Moryo said nothing, his teeth tightly clenched together as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Valar, how he had missed his Andatar.

He could sense Finwë's genuine shock, worry, and confusion. He didn't blame him. He was confused himself.

Finally, Finwë relaxed and wrapped his arms around his grandson, still not quite believing that this was happening. "Moryo?"

"I'm sorry."

Finwë blinked at the small apology. What did his grandson have to apologize for?

"You have nothing to apologize for, little one." The endearment slipped from his tongue before Finwë could stop it, and he bit his lip, expecting Moryo to indignantly declare that he wasn't little.

It never came.

He glanced down to find Moryo dozing off, his grip loosening as his eyes started to glaze over.

"Everything..."

A tiny whisper, Finwë wasn't sure if he had imagined it, then Moryo went slack. Startled, Finwë remained frozen in place, awkwardly supporting Moryo, the glass of water long-forgotten.

"Atto?" The door to the room opened, but Finwë didn't turn to greet his first-born. Fëanaro paused in the doorway, looking from his Father to Moryo, blue eyes brightening. "He awoke?" He quietly asked, though Finwë could hear the underlying tone of hope and relief, a most welcome sound. It had been so long since Fëanaro had ever shown any hint of emotion after Makalaurë's disappearance. He had been somber and detached the past five years that Finwë worried he would also lose his son as well.

In a metaphorical sense.

"I'm not sure..." Finwë replied, gently laying Moryo back down onto the bed, making sure that he was comfortable. Fëanaro strode over to his side, a hand reaching out to cup Moryo's cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"He awoke...but he was acting most strange."

Fëanaro sharply looked to him with a hint of worry. "What do you mean? Should I call for Nalara?"

Finwë placed a calming hand on his son's shoulder. "No...I think he may have only been disoriented. He certainly didn't seem to know where he was or what was happening."

Fëanaro was quiet, taking Finwë's place by Moryo's side. "He awoke..." He murmured, cradling his son's limp hand in his own. There was some disappointment behind the two words. Disappointment for not being there when his son woke, but he was grateful his Father had been. "He will be well then..."

"He is your son, Fëanaro. Moryo is strong. He will be fine."

Fëanaro huffed out a small, monotonous, laugh. "Indeed..."

Finwë's shoulders dropped as he regarded his son. Fëanaro was still grieving over the loss of his second-born. It was unhealthy for him to cling to such grief, but Fëanaro refused to let it go. He wouldn't let himself heal. Of course, Finwë and the rest of Fëanaro's family mourned over the loss of Makalaurë, but it was obvious that Fëanaro had taken it the hardest.

Finwë could remember when he and his two other sons, as well as their families, went to visit Fëanaro's after hearing of Makalaurë's disappearance. They had arrived to find Nelyo, Tyelko, Moryo, and Curvo desperately searching for their lost brother, Nerdanel brokenhearted, and Fëanaro worryingly hoping his sons would find the family's Songbird.

They found nothing.

It was a couple months after their search proved futile that Nelyo had broken down, Tyelko and Curvo had grown inconsolable, and Moryo had locked himself in his room, refusing to see anyone or do anything.

After Moryo's near-drowning, the family later discovered that he had lost some memories, for the knowledge that Makalaurë had gone missing five years prior had come as a great shock to him.

* * *

 _Caranthir had been sipping the soup Nerdanel had made for him, sitting, propped-up, against the fluffy pillows of his bed. Turukano, Findekano, and Nelyo were also seated in the middle of his bed, playing a random game Turu had dug out from underneath Caranthir's bed._

 _The family had been taken aback when Caranthir invited both Turu and Findekano into his room with Nelyo, no hint of dislike or irritation to be found. There was a calm acceptance in Caranthir's gaze as he watched Nelyo and Findekano banter back and forth and he would respond to Turukano's attempts of having small-talk with him. They chatted most of the time, with Tyelko, Curvo, and other members of the family checking on them every once in a while._

 _A couple of hours later, the small group found Caranthir growing slightly impatient, and his eyes would move towards the door, as if he were expecting for someone to walk through it._

 _That someone never came, and Caranthir was beginning to look a little disheartened. Later that night, the family gathered in his room, with Finwë and Nolofinwë joining them. Young Irissë climbed up onto the bed and crept over to Turukano's side, watching her brothers and Nelyo play their game. Caranthir looked over everyone, eyeing the Ambarussa with soft eyes as they cuddled in Fëanaro's lap, still clutching Irissë's stuffed Elk. He looked over Nolofinwë and his Grandfather, skimming past Curvo, Tyelko, and Arakano only to find that the Elf he was searching for was nowhere to be found._  
 _He huffed, glowering at the door. Where was that accursed Elf?_

 _Nelyo, sensing his growing agitation and odd yearning, finally asked, "What is it you look for, Moryo?"_

 _"Makalaurë. He has yet to visit." Caranthir grumbled, looking towards the door as he spoke._

 _An immediate hush fell over the room._

 _Caranthir's frown twisted even more as his eyes skimmed over everyone present. Finw_ _ë and Nolofinw_ _ë were eyeing F_ _ëanaro in the corner of their eye, F_ _ëanaro sat tensely with the twins clutched tightly against him, and Nerdanel appeared ready to cry, her hands pressed over her mouth and eyes shimmering with tears. Nelyo was staring at Caranthir unblinkingly, with Findekano and Turukano looking grieved. Arakano looked from Turukano to Findekano in confusion, wondering why his brothers were suddenly so sorrowful. Iriss_ _ë was silent._

 _It was F_ _ëanaro who broke the silence, his voice low, "Moryo," He cleared his throat when his voice went weak and continued, "Makalaur_ _ë...He..." He swallowed thickly, throat suddenly tight and Caranthir pursed his lips at the slight tremor he heard while his Father spoke. He narrowed his dark brown orbs on his Father, wondering what was wrong. Why were they staring at him like that? F_ _ëanaro inhaled deeply, as if preparing himself for something._

 _It was the hesitance and pain within his Father's eyes that made Caranthir grow uneasy and apprehensive. What was his Father going to tell him?_

 _"Makalaur_ _ë is no longer here."_

 _Five words._

 _F_ _ëanaro only spoke five words, but they were five words that made Caranthir's world come crashing down. The dark Elf's hands trembled, the bowl he held tipping dangerously to the side as he pinned his family with a firm glance. Surely they didn't mean..._

 _"What do you mean?" Caranthir demanded to know, tightening his grip on the bowl._

 _No one said anything._

 _"What are you saying?" Caranthir asked again, irked that no one would answer him. Were they hinting that Makalaur_ _ë...That Maglor was..._

 _No! He couldn't be. Surely he just left and went somewhere. He wasn't gone._

 _Nerdanel closed her eyes, unable to hold her son's intense gaze._

 _"Tell me!"_

 _"Moryo..." It was Curvo who quietly spoke up before Caranthir's anger could spark. Caranthir snapped his head in his direction, hoping Curvo would finally give him an answer. Why wouldn't F_ _ëanaro tell him? What was so difficult that he couldn't bring himself to answer Caranthir's question? "Makalaur_ _ë is dead."_

 _It was those three words that broke Caranthir's fragile walls._

 _"No." Caranthir shook his head in disbelief. "Makalaur_ _ë can't be dead." He denied, giving his brothers incredulous glances._

 _Curvo looked away, not wanting Caranthir to see the tears welling up in his eyes. This sent a tendril of fear through Caranthir. His heart refused to believe what his brothers were telling him, but his mind was unsure. He could picture Makalaur_ _ë in his mind, smiling softly at him and speaking with him after he and Tyelko had gone to Himring to speak with Nelyo. Even though his brother was now known as Maglor, or was, he still reminded each of them of Makalaur_ _ë. No matter how much Maglor denied it, Makalaur_ _ë had not died as he believed. Makalaur_ _ë had still been there._

 _"He's not!"_

 _"He is, Moryo." Tyelko painfully affirmed, sadness and grief etched into his normally bright features. "He has been for five years."_

 _Caranthir growled. A feral sound that made Arakano and Iriss_ _ë shrink back against their brothers. "You lie."_

 _They had to be lying. There was no way Makalaurë could be dead._

 _"They do not lie, Moryo." Turukano softly denied, unfazed by the withering glare Caranthir pinned him with. Tears were beginning to blur Caranthir's vision, but whether they were tears of anger and frustration, or of sorrow, he didn't know. Nor did he care._

 _"Makalaur_ _ë is alive." Caranthir hoarsely declared, his soup long-forgotten. Nerdanel released a quiet sob. "Atar? Andatar? Tell me where Makalaur_ _ë is."_

 _F_ _ëanaro parted his lips to speak, but no sound came out. His voice was stuck in his throat. Finw_ _ë shook his head, his dark hair swaying with the movement._

 _Caranthir couldn't believe it. Makalaur_ _ë was dead? He...was gone?_

 _For five years?_

 _"No...I don't believe it..."_

 _"Moryo-" Nelyo reached out to him but Caranthir angrily slapped his hand away, lashing out,_

 _"No! Don't you dare!"_

 _Nelyo flinched back._

 _"I can't...I won't...Makalaur_ _ë's not...He's not..." Caranthir released another growl, one filled with more sorrow and confusion rather than anger. He clutched his hair tightly in his hands, eyes closing tightly._

 _"Oh, Moryo..." Nerdanel murmured, aching to go and comfort her distraught son. Neither of them would ever understand how Caranthir truly felt. The dark Elf felt as if he had been torn apart and there was a whirlwind of emotion swirling within him, choking him._

 _Makalaur_ _ë. A life without Makalaur_ _ë?_

 _He couldn't live without him._

 _"Go." Caranthir forced out, shoving the bowl of soup in Nelyo's hands. "Get out." He didn't want company anymore, and he had suddenly lost his appetite._

 _"Moryo..."_

 _"Get out!" Caranthir fiercely ordered, turning away from them._

 _No one moved for a long moment. Slowly, one by one, each of them stood and silently left the room. All but one._

 _Caranthir never moved, but his shoulder shook from restrained sobs he refused to let out. Only when he felt a feather-light touch on his shoulder did Caranthir turn his head to see who had stayed behind._

 _Finding that it was Finw_ _ë who had sat himself on the edge of his bed, Caranthir remained quiet. If there was one person he could tolerate seeing at the moment, it was his Grandfather._

 _Finw_ _ë didn't speak, and Caranthir found that he didn't want him to. His Andatar merely let his eyes do the talking and Caranthir listened._

 _When Finw_ _ë opened his arms, Caranthir moved and settled into them, allowing Finw_ _ë to wrap them around him and hold him tightly. A sob escaped from him andit was only when Finw_ _ë started to rock him back and forth that Caranthir started to weep._

 _Harsh sobs wracked his weak body, shoulders shaking violently as he cried, and all Finw_ _ë could do was hold him as the fact that he would never see Makalaur_ _ë again_ _sunk deep into his mind._

* * *

The twins, who were nearing five years of age, didn't quite understand what was happening, but they did know what 'You may not see Makalaurë again,' meant. Ambarto and Pityo had cried for days on end, and no matter what anyone did, they wouldn't be comforted.

Finwë remembered the overwhelming grief that had clutched the entire family in its grasp. He, too, had mourned over the possibility that he may never see Makalaurë again.

He also remembered the fear that had struck him when a panicked Nerdanel messaged for him to come to their home at once. He could feel the fear and worry behind the words Nerdanel had hastily written on the parchment, and her handwriting was shaky. He had immediately dropped everything, leaving Nolofinwë in charge during his absence, and rushed over to Fëanaro's home, finding the family standing outside the Halls of Healing, waiting for Nalara to appear. When Finwë had asked what had happened, Nelyo gave him the story of what had transpired only hours before.

* * *

 _ **~Caranthir's Return~**_

 _Nelyo didn't know how long it had been since he and his brothers, as well as their Father, had gone down to the Forge to work, but it felt as if it had been an eternity. The Forge felt oddly empty when they entered, each of them automatically moving to their own tables while Fëanaro mechanically set to work on starting the fires in the furnaces lining the back wall of the Forge._

 _The silence was so thick Nelyo was sure he could cut it with one of the knives he was making. Curvo silently worked on a piece of jewelry. A circlet, Nelyo realized, upon seeing the drawn-out plans Curvo had laid out beside him. Studying the plans, Nelyo found that the circlet was going to be silver and blue._

 _Makalaur_ _ë's colors._

 _There was also the outline of a songbird crest flanked by a couple of music notes. There were other designs, simple designs, that went all around the circlet. It would be a beautiful circlet, but he he already known that. All of Curvo's work was beautiful and flawless. He had inherited their Father's skill in the Forge, it would seem._

 _Nelyo dared to break the silence by whispering a quick question to Curvo, "Why are you making a circlet, Curvo?"_

 _Curvo paused in what he was doing, blinking slowly as if he hadn't yet registered the fact that Nelyo had spoken to him. "It's for Makalaur_ _ë." Curvo mumbled back, setting back to work. "When we find him...Or when he comes back, I'm going to give it to him." He distractedly finished, setting aside some of the tools he would need to make the circlet._

 _Nelyo felt his heart constrict and shot his brother a wobbly smile. "Makalaurë will love it." Nelyo knew it was true. A soft, genuine, smile stretched Curvo's lips._

 _"I hope."_

 _I know he will... Nelyo wanted to add, but couldn't bring himself to._

 _"Atto," Tyelko's voice timidly pierced the heavy silence that had settled over the Forge, worried and uncertain._

 _Every one raised their head to find Tyelko leaning over the side of his worktable, to better see their Father._

 _"Are you well?" Tyelko slowly inquired,and it was only then that the brothers noticed that their Father had stopped working and was leaning against his workable, oddly staring into space. Fëanaro released a shaky breath, running a hand down his face and shaking his head._

 _He swayed lightly from the movement, causing all of his sons to lower their tools. Nelyo looked prepared to drag their Father home if necessary, seeing as he was far more pale than was normal._

 _"Atto?" Curvo tried when Fëanaro didn't answer._

 _...Hm?" Was the belated, and weak reply._

 _Fëanaro blearily blinked his eyes, raising his head in Curvo's direction._

 _"Are you feeling alright, Atto?" Curvo asked him again. Fëanaro took a moment to understand his son's words, his mind sluggishly processing._

 _"Fine."_

 _They didn't press him, not wanting to agitate him. They figured he was probably exhausted from not having been sleeping well the past few months. He rarely ate too._

 _The brothers gradually went back to work. After a long moment, Fëanaro also attempted to finish his mini project. He gave uo a few minutes later, pinching the bridge of his nose when he found he couldn't focus. Dark spots were beginning to dot his vision to, and his head was suddenly growing light there was also a strange ringing in his ears that was distracting him. He could barely hear the sound of his hammer._

 _"Nelyo,"_

 _Nelyo looked up when he heard Curvo call his name. Curvo sharply tipped his head in the direction of their Father, silently imploring for him to do something. Nelyo responded with an incredulous glance. Sure he may be tall and strong, but he knew better than to go against their Father._

 _"Nelyo,"_

 _Nelyo and Curvo tensed when Fëanaro spoke, eyes darting over his way. "Yes, Atto?"_

 _Fëanaro opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He pursed his lips tightly together, his brow crumbling. There...there was something i needed..." He murmured to no one in particular, running his eyes with his fists. "Wha...what was it?"_

 _By now, all of his sons had slowly started to edge towards him, concern overriding their previous precaution of not disturbing their Father._

 _Fëanaro growled quietly under his breath, irked that he couldn't remember what it was. He moved around his workable, heading for where the equipment stacked in the far corner of the room was. He never made it that far._

 _Cries of alarm echoed through the Forge when Fëanaro staggered forward then crumpled into a heap on the ground. Nelyo lunged forward, his brothers in tow, racing to their Father's side._

 _"Atto!" Once Nelyo had reached him, he had turned his Father over onto his back, frightened when he found F_ _ëanaro's eyes to be closed. The brothers didn't waste any time in getting him straight home and to the Healers._

* * *

 ** _~Caranthir's Return~_**

Nalara had calmed the family by telling them that she and the other Healers had been long expecting for this to happen. Fëanaro had not been taking good care of himself. He rarely ate, didn't sleep, and had been pushing himself to hard by working constantly.

When Fëanaro had awoken, Nerdanel had tried getting him to eat, but he refused. It was then that sharp words were exchanged between the two. Whatever it was that Nerdanel had said was unknown, but it made Fëanaro never miss another meal.

Fëanaro still needed to heal, and Finwë knew that it would take time. It took him time to heal from Miriel's death. He only hoped that Fëanaro's family would be spared from any other tragedies, and prayed to the Valar that they would watch over them.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Maglor quietly listened to Caranthir's tale, the brothers lying side-by-side as the dark-Elf told Maglor what he wanted to know. Once he was through, Maglor scoffed.

"And they thought my return was dramatic." He muttered, referring to Aredhel and Turgon. Caranthir snickered.

"At least I didn't faint."

Maglor growled and Caranthir's smirked. "You sound like a kitten trying to growl." Caranthir nonchalantly commented, amused when Maglor shot him a look.

"Kittens don't growl."

Caranthir merely quirked an eyebrow, as if saying 'that's my point' to Maglor. The minstrel huffed.

"Maybe if you tried hissing-"

"Hush up, Caranthir."

Caranthir only grinned. "You were far more intimidating back then." Maglor's younger brother recalled, talking about when they had crossed over to Middle-Earth. "I never thought you would ever become a warrior."

Maglor shrugged. "It wasn't something I wanted to become, but I hardly had a choice in the matter. After Atar died, I knew Maedhros needed me to become stronger, so I trained. He needed to be able to rely on me, to know that I was there if he needed something to be done." He sighed, thinking back to those dark days.

"Now that you mention it," Caranthir murmured, thoughtfully stroking his chin, "We need to spar."

"Spar?" Maglor repeated, raising an eyebrow. Caranthir nodded.

"It's been a while since I've picked up a blade. I kind of...miss my training sessions with Nelyo."

This time, both eyebrows rose at the sentiment. For Caranthir to openly admit this... "What happened to you?" He hadn't meant to ask that aloud, but the words slipped from him before he even thought of them.

Caranthir rolled his head Maglor's way, flashing him a knowing look. "You should know."

Maglor cringed. "Sorry."

"It's nothing." Caranthir waved a dismissive hand in the air, returning his gaze to Maglor's transparent blue canopy.

"It's nothing," Maglor mimicked, scowling. "If only I could say the same."

Caranthir remained silent for a long moment. When Maglor looked to him, he noted the hesitance lingering in Caranthir's dark eyes, like he wished to say something but didn't want to at the same time.

"Moryo?"

Caranthir gave his brother a strange look upon the use of his Father-name. "Maglor," He started, using an admonishing tone, a strange thing for Maglor to hear coming from his younger brother, "It's Caranthir."

Maglor went to object, but Caranthir wouldn't allow it. "If you can't call yourself Makalaurë, and I'm not allowed to call you Makalaurë, you can't call me Moryo." The minstrel shut his mouth, regarding his brother with an odd look. It was a fair reason, but Maglor didn't think his brother deserved to be called 'Caranthir.'

"Very well then," He conceded, a little unsure, "But, I was going to ask if there was something you wanted to say."

Caranthir bit his lower lip, deep in thought. "Well...I've been thinking."

"Yes?"

"The Silmarils...What if," Caranthir began, intertwining his fingers above his chest, "What if we allowed Atto to make them?"

" _What?"_ Maglor sharply bit out, shocked at Caranthir's question. He snapped upright, staring down at his brother.

"Hear me out-" Caranthir tried to say, sitting up as well, but Maglor cut him off.

"Allow Fëanaro to forge those accursed jewels? Are you out of your mind?" Maglor inquired, a little more harshly than was necessary. Caranthir, for his part, didn't flinch, sighing heavily. He should have known better than to broach upon that subject just yet. "Allow him to make them and watch as the world falls apart around us again? Watch as thousands die because of what our Father chose to do?"

"Maglor," Caranthir exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Would you hold on?"

Maglor fused his lips together, abashed by his behavior, but he wouldn't apologize. Not for this.

"What I'm saying, is what if we allowed Father to create the Silmarils?" Caranthir slowly started again, half-expecting for Maglor to begin his rant again.

"And then what?" Maglor demanded to know, crossing his arms tightly, silently imploring for Caranthir to tell him the answer. Caranthir said nothing, eyeing his brother with his famous are-you-done look. He didn't appear at all fazed.

"If you're quite finished," Caranthir pointedly told him, and Maglor backed down a little, bowing his head apologetically, "I would like to explain what I had in mind."

"Sorry." Maglor whispered, carding his fingers through his long hair.

Caranthir rolled his eyes. "Sure. Now, as I was saying," he said before Maglor could earnestly tell him that he truly was sorry, "Instead of devising a plan for stopping the creation of the Silmarils, I think we should plan on what to do with them after they are forged."

Maglor tilted his head, somewhat intrigued by his brother's suggestion. "How is that any better than from deterring their creation?" He questioned, curious to know what Caranthir had in mind.

"If we tried to convince Atar in discontinuing his project, it would only raise questions. Atto would start demanding answers as to why we don't want him to make the Silmarils. By doing this, we'll eventually end up having to tell him _everything_." Caranthir pointed out, emphasizing the last word. "We would have to explain where we came from, how we came to be here, what we are doing, and why. He would have to know, to understand. If we don't do this, Atto would just carry on with the project."

Maglor slowly nodded along with his words, finding that he agreed with his brother. It made sense. "And what about afterwards?"

Caranthir, pleased that Maglor was listening, continued, "After their creation, we should work on convincing Atto to give the Silmarils to Yavanna. By this point, Melkor will have already started manipulating Atar..."

Maglor grimaced at the name. "Yes, indeed..."

"Or," Caranthir piped back up, stretching his arms high up into the air, "If that plan doesn't work, just take the Silmarils and destroy them."

Maglor looked back to his brother. "Why not give them to Yavanna ourselves?"

Caranthir answered knowingly, "And have Atto skin us alive?"

Maglor formed an 'o' shape with his lips. "Good point...So, tell me more about this plan."

Caranthir grinned and leaned forward, telling Maglor everything he had come up with during the short time he had to think.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Meanwhile, in the Halls of Healing...

Elrond, or Elerondo, as his Atto now called him, was growing bored. He didn't have his twin to keep him occupied or Maedhros to follow around, or anything to do. Nalara was a kind lady to him, but it had been an entire two days since he had last seen his Atto, and his patience was growing thin. He was confused, lost, and bored, and very much wanted to see his Atto.

Elrond kicked his feet high into the air, sitting on the edge of one of the sickbeds. Nalara had gone to pick up some herbs, which meant that Elrond had no company whatsoever. And no supervision.

His devious little mind started to conjure up a plan.

Elrond eyed the room he was in then leaned over to look out the door.

No one.

He slipped off of the bed without a sound.

Good.

Creeping to the door, Elrond poked his head out of the door to see if anyone was nearby.

The corridor was empty.

Smiling victoriously, Elrond dashed out the room he was in, careful not to make any sound. He would hide every once in a while, making sure no one would catch sight of him. Sidling up against the wall at the end of the large hallway, Elrond peered around the corner, raking his eyes across the next corridor.

Empty.

This was going a lot better than he had previously thought it would.

The guilty part of his conscience was urging him to turn around and go back; to ask Nalara's permission to find his Atto, but Elrond knew she would only tell him to wait until his Atto came to visit. He didn't want to wait. He'd gotten so used to seeing his Atto and Atar everyday that it was strange not to see them for days on end.

He still hadn't seen Maedhros and he heard nothing about Maedhros from his Atto, which was another reason why he was sneaking out of the Halls of Healing. He had several questions to ask his Atto.

Sneaking down the hallway, Elrond strained his ears to hear every little sound there was so he would know whenever someone was coming. So far, all was silent and there was no sign of anyone.

He frowned.

Where was everyone? Even Himring wasn't this empty.

He was just about to reach the end of this ginormous hallway when a sound alerted Elrond to another person's presence. With practiced ease, Elrond zipped behind a table resting against the wall nearest him. He and Elros had done this many times whenever they had first followed Maedhros around Himring, curious to know more about the intimidating Elf. Carefully looking around the edge of the table, Elrond gaped.

There was an Elfling, about a head taller than he, strolling down the hallway towards him. The Elfling had familiar inky-black hair and sharp, violet, eyes. He also wore a teal green tunic with dark grey leggings and boots.

Elrond was shocked. That Elfling looked so much like Erestor! Face, eyes, and all! If Elrond didn't know better, he could've sworn that the Elfling _was_ Erestor. Only, that was impossible. Erestor was much taller than this Elfling, and he preferred dark colored robes.

The Elfling passed by Elrond's hiding place, eyes staring straight ahead. When Elrond made to sneak away, once he believed the Elfling was too far away to hear him, he was stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice.

"I would suggest that you find another place to hide."

Elrond froze, slowly moving his head to stare at the back of the Elfling's head. He had seen him?! "You may also want to work on your sneaking. You aren't as quiet as you may believe yourself to be." The Elfling added in a monotonous tone.

Elrond's jaw dropped.

Who was this Elfling?! He sounded so much like Erestor! The voice was much softer than Erestor's, but it still had that same firm tone and sharpness.

The Elfling glanced over his shoulder to study Elrond, frowning slightly when he found that he didn't recognize him. He knew all of the Elflings that lived near the Lord Fëanaro's home seeing as there were only a few of them, but this one was new.

Dark violet orbs met deep grey and locked onto one another. The Elfling analyzed Elrond. Could this be Nalara's visiting 'nephew' he had heard about from the servants? They didn't look alike at all.

The servants may be gullible and believe everything they overhear or are told, but he was different. He observed, taking in every detail possible and analyzed. Nothing got past him, he made sure of that.

"Your _aunt_ left to go to the market. She will return within two to three hours. I would find my way back to the Halls of Healing before then." The Elfling suggested, turning back around and continuing on his way.

Elrond watched him go, shocked. Did the Elfling know..? From the way he emphasized the word 'aunt,' Elrond would guess yes.

"Wait!" Elrond called, reaching out towards the Elfling.

The Elfling paused.

"What's your name?" Elrond shyly asked. He had never met another Elfling, so this was new and exciting for him. He and Elros had believed that they were the only Elflings in Himring, having never seen any other within the vicinity. They were proven correct when their Atto left to buy them some toys to entertain themselves with.

The Elfling's suspicions were correct. This Elfling was new. Every Elfling knew who he was, but this one didn't.

Perhaps, if he were to get to know the Elfling, he would be able to find out more about him. It would most certainly help settle his mind instead of keeping him awake at night wondering who this newcomer was.

Quietly, the Elfling thought to himself. He didn't really socialize much, preferring to keep to himself and watch others, but this newcomer... He was intriguing. There was something off about him.

Inwardly sighing, wondering if he was making a mistake or not, the Elfling chose to answer Elrond's inquiry.

"Erestor."

Then he left.

Elrond couldn't believe that he was right about the Elfling. He had known that Erestor and his Atto knew one another when Erestor was young, but he never imagined that he was an Elfling...

It was difficult to wrap his mind around this fact. Back in Himring, he could never imagine Erestor as an Elfling or ever having any kind of childhood.

But...How was Erestor an elfling here?

His brow crinkled as a wave of confusion washed over him. What in Arda's name was going on here? Now he really needed his Atto to explain a few things.

He went to turn around and start searching for his Atto again, but never got to it.

Elrond released a small shriek of surprise when he turned around only to be hit by something a lot bigger than he was.

A startled grunt followed after Elrond's shriek as whoever crashed into him stumbled and fell, dropping everything they had been holding onto the ground. Elrond watched from his place on the ground, as papers fluttered through the air onto the tiled floor around him and the bigger Elf.

Apprehension twisted in Elrond's stomach when he raised his head to find who it was that had run into him. Would they be angry? Would they shout at him? He hated it when people got angry with him. It made him feel terrible and small.

What he saw made his heart leap into his throat and eyes widen.

Oh Valar save him...

The Elf beside him slowly shook his head, silky, red hair cascading over his shoulders and Elrond caught a glimpse of the blue eyes the red hid from his sight. He tensed, finding that this Elf also wore a red tunic with a dark cape attached and dark boots.

He was dead.

So dead.

"Varda's name, what..?" The Elf murmured, sitting up and rubbing his head. He searched for what it was that he tripped over and met Elrond's anxious gaze.

Blinking in surprise, the Elf snapped out of his daze and reached out to grasp Elrond's tiny shoulder. "By the Valar, are you alright, little one? Did I hurt you?" He asked, concerned.

Elrond didn't seem to have heard him, the Elfling scrambling to his feet and bowing his head, his hands clasped tightly together in front of him. "I'm sorry, Maedhros!" He hastily apologized, hoping Maedhros wouldn't be angry with him for accidentally tripping him. "I didn't mean to twip you!" His worry made Elrond forget to pronounce his 'r' correctly.

The red-haired Elf's brow furrowed.

Maedhros?

That name again! Only, it had been Moryo who had said it five years before! Was it, perhaps, coincidence that this Elfling would call him 'Maedhros' too?

"I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else, little one."

Elrond slowly raised his head. What? He looked at the Elf's face.

Hold on a moment...This Elf didn't have any scars!

"I am not Maedhros, and it was my fault for tripping over you. I should have been looking where I was going." The Elf told him.

Elrond became even more confused.

Who was this Maedhros doppelganger?

"Not Maedhros?" He softly asked, suddenly growing shy.

The Elf shook his head. "No. My name is Nelyo. What is yours?" He asked, smiling down at a stunned Elrond.

Nelyo... He knew that name! But, from where?

Realizing this Nelyo had asked his name, Elrond twisted his fingers together, hoping his Atto wouldn't be upset that he was talking to a stranger. "Elerondo." He replied, using his Quenya name.

"Elerondo," Nelyo tried, and Elrond nodded. "An interesting name."

"Thank-you?"

Nelyo laughed, and Elrond couldn't stop from staring. Yes, there was no way this Elf could be Maedhros. He was too...cheerful and kind. If Maedhros had ever acted like this, Elrond would've believed the world had come to an end.

"Were you going somewhere, little one?" Nelyo asked, drawing Elrond out of his thoughts.

Elrond hummed uncertainly, poking the ground with his foot. He looked away from Nelyo, unable to handle how much this Elf reminded him so much of Maedhros. "Finding Atto."

"You were searching for your Atto?" Nelyo repeated as a question. When Elrond nodded, he stood, smiling softly at the shy Elfling. He reminded him so much of Makalaurë when he was younger. "Would I know him?"

Elrond shrugged timidly.

"Well, come, then." Nelyo held out his hand for the Elfling to take. Elrond looked at it from beneath a curtain of dark brown hair, debating whether or not he should take it.

Slowly, Elrond raised his hand and placed it into Nelyo's, watching as his hand was engulfed by the taller Elf's larger one. The smile remained on Nelyo's lips, and the warmth in his eyes -the warmth Maedhros's lacked, unless it was sparked- never faded, and Elrond felt some of his apprehension and worry ebb away.

He liked this Elf.

They started to walk away, the papers remaining on the ground.

"We will find your Atto." Nelyo assured him.

Elrond smiled back, eyes shining. Finally! He would be able to see Atto again!

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _ **And there you have it my friends! Next chapter will be a continuation of this one, so hang in there and have a wonderful rest of the week!**_


	10. Disturbing Vision

_**I'm back! A little later than I wanted, but the computer I was using decided it was going to be as evil as Sauron and deleted all of my work I had... . That was frustrating.  
Anyway, so here's the next chapter. Again, reviews are much appreciated, especially if you have some constructive criticism. You have no idea how much they help.  
That being said, lot of Elrond in this chapter. Hope you enjoy! **_

* * *

_**~Duplicity~**_

Turgon frowned severely as he stared down at the parchment in his hands. It held no important information. At least, the information he was searching for. Setting the letter down, Turgon picked up another, then another, checking the corner of every single paper he went through.

Still nothing.

Sighing, Turgon dropped his head into his hand, glaring down at his desk.

Honestly, was it truly so difficult to find what he was searching for?

He blamed Maglor and Aredhel for putting him through this. Because Aredhel had asked him the same question Maglor had asked her, Turgon found the question plaguing his mind as well, and he couldn't rest because of it. Normally, he wouldn't busy himself over one small question, but curiosity had gotten the best of him and Turgon had immediately set out to answer it.

When he still couldn't find what he was searching for, Turgon pushed his chair back, slumping back into his seat and burying his face in his hands. Exhaling deeply, Turgon blinked away the sleep that clung to him. He was tired, but wouldn't be able to sleep until he found the answer to this accursed question.

He rubbed his tired eyes, unaware that Findekano and Nelyo were watching him in the corner of their eyes with concern.

The Elfling Elrond was on the floor between them, playing with the toys Nelyo had borrowed from Ambarto and Pityo. The twins had been more than happy to loan a fellow Elfling some toys, as long as they got to play with him too. Turgon had nearly had a heart-attack when Nelyo entered the room with Elrond, asking if they knew who Elrond's father was. Findekano had shaken his head and Turgon carefully replied that he did. He promised Elrond that he would take him to his Father when his Father returned from the market.

It wasn't a complete lie, seeing as Maglor was planning to go to Tirion later that day. Thankfully, no one questioned him even more about the Father.

Turgon's eyes fluttered, the Elf fighting to stay awake. Elves normally wouldn't tire so easily, but he had been stressing and worrying so much it wore him out. Shaking his head, Turgon refocused on his task. If he could just solve this little mystery, that would be fantas-

"Turu," Findekano's quiet voice broke into his thoughts. Turgon didn't look his way, only making a sound of acknowledgement.

"Hm?" He shuffled through a few more papers, hoping he would find something.

If what he was looking for wasn't in any of these papers, Turgon wouldn't hold himself accountable for what he may do next.

"Is..." Findekano began, trailing off when Turgon dropped his head against the desk with a loud 'thump!' An irked growl sounded afterwards, and both Nelyo and Findekano gave him an odd look. What on Eru's green earth was wrong with the normally calm and peaceful Turu?

"How difficult is it to find out what accursed year it is!?" Turgon exasperatedly asked aloud, sighing in irritation. "How could I be so irresponsible as to not write the dratted date on my notes!?"

Elrond glanced his way, humming cheerfully under his breath as he figured out what to do with his figurines. Deciding that going to comfort the upset Elf was a better idea, Elrond stood and wandered over to the desk Turgon was seated at. Sympathetically patting the taller Elf's knee, Elrond offered silent comfort. Turgon shifted so that he could see Elrond then sat up, reaching down and picking up the small Elfling. Setting him down in his lap, Turgon patted his head as thanks. Elrond, who normally did not allow anyone to ever pick him up or touch him, allowed this. He felt rather comfortable with Turgon. He had met the tall Elf when his Atto brought him to Healer Nalara, and had decided that he liked him. His Atto seemed to trust him a lot, so he knew this Elf had to be friendly.

Both, however, couldn't help but feel a strange familiarity about each other. There was something about Elrond that reminded Turgon of Tuor. He didn't know what it was, whether it was the man-like features Elrond had or something else.

He would have to ask Maglor about Elrond's true parentage. He was curious to know who's descendant Elrond was. He had to be related to them in some way.

Perhaps he should have taken up Lady Vairë's offer on learning what was happening in Middle-Earth after his death. He certainly was regretting not having done so.

"Elerondo," Turgon murmured, just loud enough for the Elfling to hear him. Elrond tipped his head up in question, gazing into Turgon's grey-blue orbs. "I don't know why I'm asking you this, but would you happen to know what year it is?"

Findekano shot a look of immense concern in Nelyo's direction. His brother didn't know what year it was? Nelyo wasn't facing him, however. He was giving Turu and Elrond an odd and suspicious look, looking from the Elfling to Turu and frowning thoughtfully.

Findekano nearly gaped. Surely Nelyo was suspecting that Turu was Elrond's Father.

My...That would be shocking.

Or was there something else Nelyo noticed that he didn't?

"You no know year?" Elrond innocently inquired, a bit surprised. Turgon was a fully grown Elf and he didn't even know what year it was? But, big Elves knew everything! At least, that's what he believed. Atto and Atar did. He would listen when Elros would ask them multiple questions about various subjects and Atto and Atar would always have an answer to them.

If there was anyone smarter than Atto and Atar, it was Erestor. That Elf had to know everything!

"I'm exhausted and can't seem to think clearly, little one. So, no, I don't know what year it is as of this moment." Turgon answered, correcting the Elfling's grammar without calling him out on it.

"Oh." Elrond nodded, sounding as if Turgon had explained something important to him. "Okay. It 1449. That what Aunty says." Elrond answered Turgon, comparing his tiny hands to Turgon's larger ones. He marveled at the size difference. Turgon's hands were smaller than Nelyo's but still twice the size of his.

"1449." Turgon repeated, nodding slowly. "Thank-you, Little one, that was-" He cut off sharply when he realized what Elrond had just told him.

1449.

"It's 1449!" He exclaimed, and Elrond started in surprise at the alarm coating his voice. "Then it is the time!"

So the project Fëanaro was working on the Silmarils. There time was running out.

"Time?" Elrond asked, voicing the question that had also crossed Nelyo and Findekano's minds, tracing the patterns of Turgon's sleeve. Turgon only distractedly patted his head again.

"Not good. Where is Mag- Makalaurë?" He wondered aloud, his gaze drawn to the doors of the room they were in. "I have not seen him for the entire day."

Nelyo sipped some water from his glass, watching Turgon analytically, his eyes narrowing when Turgon mentioned his brother's name. Makalaurë and Turukano had grown rather close, almost like Findekano and himself. It was a little odd.

"The Lord Makalaurë was in the kitchens last I saw him, my Lord." A new voice answered Turgon's question.

Everyone turned to see an unfamiliar she-Elf entering the room, holding a few papers in her hands. Turgon, finding that he recognized the voice, immediately turned in his chair to see if it was indeed who he knew it to be. His brows shot up when he found it to be Thuringwethil herself, dressed up as a servant walking to the middle of the room and setting the papers down on the desk he was sitting at.

The surprise lingering in Turgon's gaze quickly vanished when Nelyo and Findekano glanced his way.

"Ah, thank-you..?"

Thuringwethil, her back turned to Findekano and Nelyo, performed a small curtsy, smirking up at Turgon with laughter shining in her dark brown orbs.

"Ümbara, my Lord."

"Ümbara."

Thuringwethil bowed this time, the smirk never leaving her changed features. Her gaze fell onto Elrond, who was staring at Thuringwethil with awe.

"Hello there." She greeted him, and Elrond shyly returned the greeting. She tilted her head at him, watching as Elrond debated whether or not he was going to ask her something. She could tell he wanted to, but his shyness was holding him back. She patiently waited, and Turgon could see the distaste of pretending to be a servant in the way she held herself.

"Your have grey hair." Elrond commented, staring at the odd-colored hair Thuringwethil had. Thuringwethil lips twitched upwards at this, and a grin blossomed on Turgon's lips when Elrond flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry...I never seen grey hair before." He explained himself, looking down at the ground, a tinge of red dusting his cheeks. "It like snow, but it isn't..."

"Quite alright." Thuringwethil accepted his apology, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Elrond's eyes snapped back up to her, pouting as he went to fix his hair. "A lot of people find my hair color strange."

"It not strange!" Elrond immediately protested, nose crinkling. Who could say such a thing about her hair? "Only odd."

Thuringwethil quirked an eyebrow. "Odd?" That was better than it being strange?

"It unique." Elrond corrected himself, firmly believing his statement. It was unique. It was odd, but it wasn't strange. It was different.

Turgon chuckled. The innocence of little Elflings. It was a precious thing to see. From what he had learned from Maglor, Elrond had always been an accepting person. He had been the first to really, truly, warm up to he and Maedhros after Elrond and Elros had been taken as 'hostages.' His home, Imladris, was open to everyone. He accepted people as they were. He was never overly critical, but he had his own opinion about everyone and everything.

"Why thank-you." Thuringwethil said, forcing herself to sound _very_ pleased. She did appreciate Elrond's compliment, but forcing herself to be the bright and cheery servant she most certainly was _not_ was rather difficult. Turgon couldn't help but snicker, earning a deadly look from Thuringwethil. One that promised him that if he laughed at her one more time, she would end him right then and there.

He coughed, disguising his laughter, though his amusement was obvious in the expression he wore.

Elrond hummed happily, returning his attention to Turgon's sleeve, studying the embroidery and fun patterns decorating it.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to the Lady Nerdanel's workroom." Thuringwethil excused herself, bowing once again and gliding out of the room. Turgon noted, with growing amusement, that she also wore a dress.

Thuringwethil must be regretting her decision of becoming a servant, but it was the only thing they could think of that would help their small group out. It would be easier to find Thuringwethil and communicate with her when they needed to. It would also be less suspicious and conspicuous. They would have to limit their interactions during the day, but if anything were to suddenly come up, Thuringwethil would be reached in little to no time at all.

It had been Nerdanel who had asked Fëanaro to hire Thuringwethil, after Maglor had overheard his Mother's conversation with Nelyo about needing a helping hand in her sculpturing and around the house. Maglor had suggested this to them the night before- Thuringwethil becoming a servant, and the Vampire reluctantly agreed. She knew it was for the best, and it was better than being a servant of Morgoth.

That was one problem solved.

The other was Aredhel and himself.

What of them? Their visit would come to an end shortly, and they would return to Tirion with Finwë. The Feast had passed, much to their relief, but there was one other celebration approaching seeing as the holidays were closing in. After the holidays, they would be gone.

He supposed he, Aredhel, Maglor, Caranthir, and Thuringwethil could meet up sometime in the marketplace, but they couldn't do that everyday.

He sighed. So many problems they had yet to take care of.

"Are you upset?" Elrond's small voice drew Turgon from his thoughts, and the former king of Gondolin peered down at the Elfling in his lap. Elrond was looking up at him, brown eyes filled with concern. He smiled at the Elfling, shaking his head.

"I have many things on my mind, little one." He explained to him, faintly recalling the many times he had held Idril in the same manner he held Elrond. He felt like he was a parent again, raising little Idril...

That was another thing about Elrond, Turgon realized. He was much like Idril. It was uncanny, and a little unnerving with how much he reminded Turgon of both Tuor and Idril.

"Oh." Elrond's lips thinned. "So, not upset?"

Turgon thought over the question. "No." he slowly answered. "Not upset. Only tired."

"Ah." Elrond curtly dipped his chin, as if he understood what Turgon meant by being tired. "You should play. Or talk." Elrond suggested, with such childlike seriousness. "It help a lot."

Turgon blinked at Elrond's insight. The Elfling had seen right through him and had understood him perfectly. As strange as it was, Turgon found it amazing. At such a young age, Elrond was very perceptive and could read into the hidden meanings behind every word someone would speak. A quality that would help him greatly in the long-run.

"How do you know?" Turgon asked him, genuinely curious.

"I find out." Elrond answered him, speaking very slowly, thinking through his words before speaking them. "When I upset, or 'tired,'" He emphasized the word 'tired,' like he was telling Turgon that he knew what he had meant by his use of the word, "I play. Or I talk. It help me, I sure it can help you." He told him.

Turgon regarded the Elfling with a small amount of disbelief. He could sense Nelyo and Findekano's amazement as well, and could hardly blame them.

"I talk to Elros."

"Your brother?"

"Twin." Elrond instantly corrected. "And Atto talk to Maedhros and Maedhros talk to Atto. They talked all the time when they thought we sleeping."

Nelyo's eyes swiveled over to Elrond upon hearing the name 'Maedhros' again. Who in Varda's name was this Maedhros everyone but he seemed to know?

Turgon chuckled at Elrond. "You are wise for your young age, Elerondo."

Elrond beamed.

His attention was quickly snatched away from Turgon when the door to the room was opened once again.

"Moro!" Elrond exclaimed brightly, leaping down from Turgon's lap and racing over to the poor, unsuspecting Elf that had entered the room.

Caranthir was victim to one of Elrond's more-than-enthusiastic hugs, causing him to nearly trip and fall onto the ground.

"Elerondo," Caranthir all but grunted out, awkwardly patting Elrond's head. Elrond smiled brightly up at him. He had met Caranthir briefly when Maglor had dragged him down to the Healers to meet him. At first, he wasn't sure if he would like the Elf, his uncle, but Caranthir reminded him of grown-up Erestor. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for Atto." Elrond responded, glancing behind Caranthir in the hopes of seeing his Father. "Where is he?"

Caranthir shrugged. "No idea. He was in the kitchens earlier-"

Turgon's eyes shot over to where Nelyo and Findekano, hoping against hope that they wouldn't realize that Caranthir had just given away who Elrond's Father was.

"But I believe he left to go to Tirion."

Turgon relaxed slightly, but still held his breath when Findekano's expression warped into a suspicious one, mulling over Caranthir's words.

"Attooooo!" Elrond moaned, arms still wrapped around Caranthir's knees, clearly upset.

"What is wrong with you?" Caranthir questioned, reaching down and trying to unwrap Elrond's arms. The Elfing had a different idea. When Caranthir managed to escape his hold, Elrond latched onto his arm, trapping Caranthir once again. Caranthir tried to shake him off, but Elrond never relinquished his hold, giggling when Caranthir growled.

"You are an annoying pest."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Yes." Elrond replied, grinning. "Maedhros call me 'annoying pest' too! And Atto. But they never mean it, which mean you no mean it either!"

Caranthir blinked, but quickly recovered himself, snatching Elrond up and dangling him upside down. "You are most certainly an annoying pest that must be dealt with." Caranthir hated to admit it, but if he had a weakness, it was for Elflings. And Elrond was no exception. The bright-eyed, loving child had wormed himself into the dark-Elf's heart in record time.

Elrond shrieked when Caranthir tossed him onto the couch, bouncing a couple of times.

The door swung open again to reveal two golden and black-haired Elves peeking into the room with confusion. Tyelko and Curvo's eyes landed on the giggling Elrond who had latched onto Caranthir once again, tormenting the poor Elf.

Realization was reflected in their eyes as they entered the room with Ambarto and Pityo in their arms. "I was wondering who was laughing." Tyelko told everyone, curiously watching Caranthir attempt to get Elrond to release him. "Who is this new Elfling?"

Turgon looked to see Nerdanel enter with Nolofinwë and Finwë, who also were intrigued by the unfamiliar laughter they had overheard. Nerdanel smiled at the sight of Caranthir 'playing' with an Elfling she found she did not recognize.

Elrond, hearing the inquiry, tipped his head up to see Tyelko, a wide smile stretching his tiny mouth. "I Elerondo!" He introduced himself, kicking his legs wildly as he tried to escape the hold Caranthir had trapped him in. Caranthir smirked when Elrond found that he was helpless and couldn't escape. He went slack in his hold, allowing himself to be held by the dark-Elf.

"Hello there, little Elerondo." Nerdanel greeted, and Elrond returned the greeting, completely forgetting his shyness. Caranthir seated himself on the couch, allowing Elrond to slip out of his hold. Elrond didn't move away from him, however, choosing to cuddle against his favorite uncle and clinging to his arm. Caranthir cracked open an eye to glare down at him, but made no move to remove him.

Everyone watched with amazement, wondering who this Elfling could be for Caranthir to be so relaxed with him.

"You have an accent I do not recognize, child." A new voice sounded, and Turgon nearly jumped when he found Fëanaro had silently entered the room behind everyone else.

Trepidation settled within him.

What if Maglor were to come here and find Elrond? The entire family would discover that Elrond was Maglor's son and then Maglor would have to explain everything about the Elfling to them.

A part of him was interested in finding out how the family would react to the news, but another part of him was wary.

He supposed whatever happened would happen.

Elrond peered up at Fëanaro and felt a sense of nervousness settle over him. This newcomer looked rather intimidating. His blue eyes were intense and burned brightly, and his dark ebony-colored hair only added to it. There was a fire that blazed fiercely within this new Elf Elrond though looked a lot like his Atto.

"Accent..?" Elrond repeated, his voice a ghosting whisper. He tried to make himself smaller by cuddling closer to Caranthir, wide brown eyes watching Fëanaro.

Fëanaro's expression was stoic, not allowing anyone to see how he felt or what he thought, but he regarded this new Elfling with slight curiosity. His tone was grave, nearly monotonous as he explained, "The manner in which you speak is unlike anything I have heard." His interest was piqued. With Fëanaro being a linguist, hearing the strange accent coating the Elfling's words intrigued him. Where did this Elfling come from and why was he here?

Elrond's nose scrunched up in confusion, his brow furrowing with worry. "How I speak?" He rephrased Fëanaro's question. "I speak badly?" He questioned. He knew his grammar was bad, Valar, it sometimes drove Erestor up the wall, but he had been doing his best to perfect his Quenya.

"Quenya isn't your first language, is it, child." Fëanaro stated rather than questioned. Elrond hesitantly shook his head and Turgon worried his lower lip. Leave it to Fëanaro to pick up on this.

"What is your first language, then?" Nerdanel asked, wanting to learn more about this mysterious Elfling.

Elrond tugged on Caranthir's arm, meeting the dark-Elf's gaze. Turgon could see the silent question brewing in those chocolate-colored orbs. One that asked Caranthir if it was okay for him to answer Fëanaro's question.

Caranthir drew his eyes up to meet Turgon's, a sense of reassurance hidden behind them, and parted his lips to speak, "Elerondo is visiting his aunt from the far Eastern Coast of Aman." He expertly interjected, directing everyone's attention to himself and leading them away from their previous inquiries.

It worked, Turgon found, silently thanking Caranthir for changing the subject.

"Oh! Then you must have traveled for quite some time!" Nerdanel commented, clasping her hands together. "Who is your aunt, child?"

Elrond found that he quite liked this nis. She looked cheerful and fun. Her eyes sparkled and her smile was welcoming.

"Nalara." Elrond answered. Nerdanel looked surprised.

"Truly? Oh! You must be the son of her sister then! How wonderful!"

Elrond bashfully nodded, though there was a hint of confusion glittering in his grey orbs.

"I didn't know Nalara's sister had come to visit." Nerdanel told Fëanaro, who responded with a weak shrug.

"Her sister didn't." Caranthir corrected. "Her brother-in-law."

Nerdanel formed an 'o' shape with her lips. "Oh. I do hope Nalara introduces us to him, then. They are welcome to visit."

Taking a seat next on the couch across the one Caranthir and Elrond were seated on, Nerdanel continued to question Elrond. Fëanaro followed Nerdanel, gracefully sitting beside her and paying some attention to the small conversation taking place.

"How old are you, little one?"

Elrond's gaze flickered over to Turgon with some small amount of panic. He knew he couldn't say six, because that wouldn't make sense to grown-up Elves.

Full-blooded Elves, at least, Elrond darkly thought to himself.

Turgon came to his rescue, as Elrond had been pleading for him to, mouthing the number, 'nineteen,' to him.

Elrond dutifully repeated the number aloud.

"Oh my!" Nerdanel blinked. "You are as tall as Nelyo was when he was your age! I thought you were older than nineteen!"

Turgon gave a small breath of relief. He'd forgotten that his Aunt and Uncle had had Nelyo as an Elfling. From what he had heard, Nelyo had been pretty tall for his age. Taller than his age-mates. He could tell that it had to be true since Nelyo practically towered over everyone. Finwë was still the tallest, by a fraction of an inch, but none of them would have been surprised if Nelyo had ended up being taller than him.

Elrond glanced over at Nelyo in question, and Nelyo nodded.

"I was almost as tall as my Atto when I was forty." He told Elrond, watching as the Elfling's eyes widened.

"Woah..." Elrond breathed, amazed, then he studied Nelyo quizzically. "Can you stand?"

The question confused everyone but Nelyo, who understood Elfling language far better than everyone in the room having spent years translating his brothers' gibberish and broken sentences when they were younger.

"I can." Nelyo unfolded his legs from underneath him and swiftly stood up, wondering why Elrond would have wanted him to.

Elrond's already wide eyes widened even more and his jaw dropped in amazement. "You as tall as Maedhros! It impossible!" He exclaimed, shocked.

"Truly?" Nelyo asked, genuinely meaning his question. "Who is this Maedhros?"

Elrond's jaw snapped shut at the question, then he ecstatically answered Nelyo's question. "Maedhros is scary Elf who take care of my twin and me!"

The corner of Caranthir's lip twitched at Elrond's words and his eyes reopened so that he could watch Elrond happily tell everyone who his beloved Maedhros was. His happiness was contagious, and the way he spoke of Maedhros with such adoration and love made everyone else smile. Even Fëanaro cracked a small smile as he listened to Elrond tell them stories of big, strong, Maedhros watching over he and his brother and their Atto.

"He care for us, I know he does. He no show it, but I hear him check on us at night. When he think we sleeping, we hear him question Atto about us." Elrond's grey orbs shone brightly. "He one who wanted El and I to get tutor so we learn. When we got a teacher, we learn Quenya." Here, Elrond frowned embarrassingly, twisting his hands in front of him. "My Quenya no good, but I try! El no try because he no want to." Elrond shook his head, tsking his brother for his rebellious behavior.

Nerdanel giggled while the others chuckled.

"One time, El and I went to play outside." Elrond continued on, the memory of the story he was about to tell fresh in his mind. "We no listen to Atto when he say to stay in gates. We wanted to see out of gates." His cheeks flushed, and the Elves could see that he was internally lecturing himself about not listening to his Atto. "Atto gone to visit city far away, and we left with Maedhros. He no happy about it, but he agree to because Atto ask."

"Are Maedhros and your Atto close friends?" Nolofinwë asked the Elfling, wanting to learn more about these mysterious Elves he was hearing about. Nelyo also leaned forward, also wanting to know the answer to this question. There was something in his eyes Turgon found he didn't like.

It was a sense of _knowing_ , a look of suspicion that made Turgon think he was catching onto something their small group wouldn't want him to.

Elrond nodded multiple times. "Atto and Maedhros close friends. Brothers."

Nelyo's eyes narrowed on Elrond, scanning the Elfling with critical eyes, searching for something Turgon wasn't sure he would find.

"Maedhros." Finwë parroted quietly. "A strange name."

"He change it." Elrond explained to Finwë. "I no remember what his name was, but he change it to Maedhros." Even when he said this, Elrond had a feeling he did remember what Maedhros's name used to be. He'd heard it before, and recently... But where?

"Interesting." Nolofinwë commented, pondering over the odd name. It didn't sound at all Quenya, but no one could think of what origin the name could have been derived from. "Continue on with your story, little one."

Elrond happily did. "Well, El and I went outside the gates..."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _"Come on, El!" Elros urged his twin, tugging Elrond by the arm and leading them further away from their home. They had been there long enough to call it home now, but it still didn't quite feel like one._

 _Of course, Elrond didn't even know what a home felt like. He didn't have a Father he or Elros could turn to when they had troubled and they didn't exactly have a Mother. Their Nana had always been too busy with the pretty jewel she used to wear everywhere. She would dump them off to their nurse and leave them in her care for the entire day. The only time they truly came to know their Nana was when she would wake them up in the mornings then tuck them to bed at night._

 _The nurse gave them a bed-time story, not their Mother._

 _Elrond had grown used to it. And then the day came where Sirion was attacked. When their Nana had heard the news, she had rushed off. To where, Elrond didn't know. Their nurse had been the one to barge into their room and hide them._

 _Elrond and Elros had been so scared, clinging to one another and listening as the sounds of battle raged on. They could hear shouting in the corridor and the sounds of armored feet racing down past their bedroom..._

 _Screams of pain mingled with battle cries and Elrond could hear something heavy falling onto the floor every few seconds. Their nurse, Laia, had ushered them into a closet, embracing them both tightly and kissing their foreheads._

 _"Whatever you do, little ones," She had hastily told them, a sense of urgency and fear underlying the tone of her voice, and Elrond could see it reflected in her kind green eyes, "Do not leave this place!" She commanded, gripping their shoulders firmly but gently. Her voice trembled and Laia started when they heard harsh yelling outside the room. Her breathing quickened, but Laia had summoned what was left of her courage and went to leave. Elrond and Elros reached out for her, fingers curling in the fabric of her sleeve, not wanting to let her go. They had known then, that if she should leave, they would never see her again. _

_"Laia..." Elros whimpered and Laia paused. When she glanced down to see them, Elrond could see the tears shimmering in her eyes._

 _"Be brave, my little warriors." She whispered so softly the two barely heard her, running her fingers through their short hair. "The two of you are meant for greater things. You will not die here." She promised them, cupping their tiny cheeks._

 _A cry of outrage shook the foundations of the building, and the twins threw themselves at Laia fearfully. Laia held them close._

 _Elrond could tell she was preparing herself for something. Something that scared her, and it scared him._

 _It was her death, he would later figure out._

 _But the twins knew Laia to be a courageous Elleth. Her love for the twins provided her with the strength she needed to let them go and to leave, hiding them from sight._

 _They would live, but she would not. A split second later, Laia had tugged them up into her arms and rushed out of the closet. She had changed her mind. She was going to take them away from here._

 _"Remember children," Her last words to them, Elrond would later recall, were these, "Your Nana did love you." And then she left, after dropping them off far outside Sirion's gates._

 _How they managed to sneak past the battle without being seen or confronted eluded Elrond, but he thanked the Valar they had._

 _But Laia's words made no sense to Elrond's young mind. Why did their Nana leave and Laia stay? Their Nana should have stayed, but Laia was the only one who did. She was the only one who cared._

 _Not long after, were Elrond and Elros found by frightening Elves who carried them off farther away and dumped them by a cave and a waterfall. The Elves didn't kill them, but they did leave. Elrond and Elros refused to leave the place, scared of what they might find or who they might see. While Elrond remained in the cave, Elros went outside to play by the waterfall. He could hear his brother splashing about in the water, humming quietly under his breath, and then, sudden silence._

 _Elrond crept towards the entrance of the cave, wondering why his brother had abruptly gone silent._

 _And then he heard it._

 _A hardened voice, cutting through the air like steel, speaking to his brother. He could barely see his brother cowering beside the waterfall at the sight of the intimidating Elf approaching him._

 _That Elf had been Maedhros._

 _Elrond had frozen in place, scared. He didn't know what to do. The scary Elf was tall, more than two times as tall as them, and was striding towards Elros with a severe expression. He stopped when a voice, softer than the scary Elf's, called out to him._

 _"Maedhros, you're frightening him."_

 _Maedhros glowered at the newcomer, an Elf who was far less scarier than him. The new Elf emerged from the woods, his kind but sad blue eyes falling onto his brother's trembling form._

 _Maglor._

 _Elros, no matter how much Maglor had tried to coax him, refused to budge. When Maglor had taken a step towards his brother, Elrond had darted out from his hiding place with a small, frightened cry and flew towards him, crushing Elros close to him and glaring at Maglor. Elros immediately reciprocated the embrace._

 _Maglor went stock still, staring at the two of them with wide, shocked eyes, and even Maedhros had an odd look on his face._

 _"Twins..." Maglor had breathed. "Just like...the Ambarussa..." His voice was a tiny whisper, so weak and frail as the look of utter grief replaced his kind expression._

 _It took a lot of convincing on Maglor's part to get Maedhros to take them as hostages, but the scary Elf gave into his younger brother, unable to refuse him._

 _And here they were now, in Sirion, being raised by Maedhros and Maglor. It had been several months since that day, and the twins begetting day was fast approaching._

 _"Elrond!" Elros's voice brought Elrond back to the present, and the Half-Elven found his brother impatiently dragging him further outside the gates. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach and Elrond yanked his brother to a stop. "Elrond!" Elros whined, a little irritated with his difficult brother._

 _Elrond only shook his head and Elros huffed. "What's the matter? Why don't you want to go?" He demanded to know, tugging Elrond's arm again. Elrond shook his head, faster, this time, the uneasy feeling tightening the knots in his stomach._

 _There was something bad nearby. He could feel its dark presence lurking around them._

 _Elros, watching as Elrond's eyes darted about them with a touch of fear and worry, understood that his brother had sensed something. And whatever it was, judging by the look on his face, it couldn't be good._

 _"We need to go." It was a faint whisper, but Elros heard it all the same. Now he knew something was wrong. Elrond hardly ever spoke, even to Elros, but he did this time. And with urgency._

 _Elros curtly nodded, knowing it wouldn't be wise to doubt his brother's senses. "Okay. Let's go." Before whatever it is you sense comes, Elros mentally added. The two spun on their heels and made to run, but never got that far. A beast, unlike anything Elrond and Elros had ever seen before, had lunged out of the woods onto the path in front of them, causing the two to release high-pitched shrieks of fear._

 _It was huge! And it was ugly, the face mutilated and beyond recognizable, and it reeked. If Elrond could have described the beast, he would have, but even he didn't know what it was. He didn't recognize it, but he was sure it had to be one of those monsters from the children stories Laia once read to them._

 _Whatever it was growled, a low and feral sound that sent chills running down his spine. It raised one of its large paws and moved towards them, the ground quaking beneath its weight._

 _Elrond and Elros fearfully backed away, panicking. Jumbled thoughts raced through their minds as they tried to think of what to do._

 _Could they run? But what if it caught them? Should they scream for help? Would someone reach them in time?_

 _They had no time to answer the question when the beast lunged at them. Elrond immediately shoved Elros out of harm's way, barely throwing himself to the side in order to avoid being caught._

 _The twins scrambled to their feet, Elros crying out for his brother. Elrond, in his haste to stand, tripped over his feet and crashed back into the ground. He managed to raise his head and what he saw made his heart skip a beat._

 _The monster was going for his brother, the beast slowly creeping forward as a predator would its cornered prey. Elros was trapped, his back against a tree, shaking violently._

 _Without thinking, Elrond grabbed the nearest thing he could find- a big rock- and with a fierce shout that he was sure would have made even Maedhros proud, threw it as hard as he could at the monster._

 _The rock thumped against the beast's head, falling to the ground beside its paw, and it paused. Craning its neck, the ugly creature's beady eyes trapped Elrond within their hold, mouth curling back into a snarl._

 _Elros shot away once he realized the creature was distracted, only to skid to a stop when he found Elrond had not followed him. He looked to see the creature fully rotate itself to face his brother, angry that Elrond had struck it._

 _"Elrond!"_

 _"Go!" Elrond shouted back, squeaking out something unintelligible when the creature pounced. He cast himself to the side, slipping on the wet grass, but managed to keep himself upright and ran._

 _Leading the monster away from his brother and leaving Elros behind, frantically calling after him. It was only fear that gave Elrond the strength he needed to keep running and to not pause for breath. His tiny feet barely touched the earth as he ran, listening to the growls and snarls of the heavy creature chasing after him._

 _'Help me...Help me!' Elrond inwardly cried, his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out every other sound but the beast's growls. He kept going, not knowing where he was running to, until, finally, Elrond could go no further._

 _With a frightened and despairing shout, Elrond crumpled to the ground at the base of a large tree, tears streaming down his face._

 _Sheer terror immobilized the young Elfling when he looked back in time to see the ugly beast leap at him, jaw agape and sharp teeth glinting._

 _At once, Elrond hid his face in his arms, curling tightly into himself as he prepared himself for his death that was to come._

 _To Elrond, caught within the clutches of fear, it felt as if his impending doom was taking hours to come, when it hadn't even been a second. He could sense the beast closing in, feel it closing the distance that separated them._

 _Just when the monster landed atop him, its claws digging into his arm, did Elrond release a pained scream._

 _His scream was closely followed by a ferocious, inhuman roar. The beast was violently torn away from Elrond by an unrelenting force and sent sailing through the air. It crashed, mercilessly, into the ground and whatever attacked it followed close behind._

 _The Elfling didn't dare move a muscle, even when he heard the sound of a blade singing through the air and ripping through the beast. He could hear the beast's wounded yelp and angered snarl._

 _Whoever had rescued him, wasted no time in ending the beast's pathetic life with a quick run-through with their blade._

 _Elrond couldn't move even if he wanted to, trapped within the clutches of terror and sharp fear._

 _He barely heard the sound of armored footsteps rushing towards him, but he did sense the new presence that dropped down beside him, a hand reaching out and turning him over._

 _A deep, hoarse voice called out his name._

 _"Elrond!"_

 _He still didn't move, but this time, it wasn't because he was terrified. It was because he recognized that voice but couldn't believe that it was him._

 _The hand moved to cup his tiny face._

 _"Elrond!" The voice repeated. "Open your eyes, child!" It came out as an order, but Elrond didn't obey, too afraid._

 _Afraid of what, he didn't know._

 _"Elrond, you are safe." The voice assured him, and Elrond felt arms delicately wrapping around him as if he was made of glass and gently holding him against the newcomer's chest._

 _Elrond whimpered, having jostled his arm and whined in pain._

 _He wanted to cry, but Elrond refused to, knowing it would cause him more pain._

 _"Elrond, it is alright." The voice soothed, and a hand smoothed his hair back. "Open your eyes, little one." The endearment slipped from the Elf's tongue before he could stop himself, but he hardly noticed._

 _Elrond finally cracked open his eyes to see that it was indeed Maedhros who held him in the protective embrace he was in. The normally severe and grave demeanor Maedhros normally had had vanished without a trace, leaving behind concern._

 _It was too much for Elrond, and the tears he had been holding at bay fell._

 _Maedhros froze for a moment, his fingers tangled in Elrond's silky hair, unsure of what to do, but when he saw the pain reflected in those half-opened, dark, grey orbs, Maedhros knew he had to comfort the little Elfling._

 _Keeping Elrond cradled against his chest with one arm, Maedhros loosed his only hand and used it to run his fingers through Elrond's silky hair. "Shh, little one," Maedhros quietly cooed, distantly recalling all of the times he held all of his younger brothers the way he held Elrond and soothed them. "I have you." He added in a whisper. He didn't know what that would mean to Elrond, but he hoped it was enough to calm the Elfling._

 _He would've thanked the Valar for his timing, but he didn't._

 _He had heard the tale of Elrond's bravery from Elros, when the twin had come flying into his study, babbling incoherently between sobs about how Elrond was about to be eaten by some monster._

 _Maedhros didn't even think, he acted._

 _He bolted from his study, leaving behind a wailing Elros in Erestor's care. He had seen the unveiled worry in Erestor's piercing eyes when they settled on him, having understood Elros's words, and recognized the plea for him to rescue Elrond burning within them. Worry for the Elfling was what urged Maedhros to quicken his pace, forcing himself to run faster than he knew he could._

 _When he had heard Elrond's scream, heart-wrenching fear had seized him, suffocating him._

 _'For a split second...I thought he was dead_ _...' Maedhros thought to himself, unconsciously tightening his hold on Elrond, recalling the time when he had scared Elrond into falling off a balcony passing through his mind._

 _When he came across the beast and Elrond, Maedhros had instantly attacked the creature, savagely beating it down and ending it's pitiful life. Sharp, coiling anger had filled Maedhros's being while he attacked the creature, and a small dose of fear accompanied that anger._

 _When he had finished off the creature, Maedhros had turned, half-expecting to find that Elrond had fled to safety, but that wasn't what he had found._

 _He had looked to find Elrond lying face down on the ground, his wounded arm splayed out to the side, with blood seeping into the ground._

 _It had scared him more than he wanted to admit. It was at that moment Maedhros truly believed he had arrived too late._

 _Elrond whined again, solely in pain and his fingers curled around Maedhros's hand, grasping it, begging for comfort; for Maedhros to take away the pain._

 _Maedhros shushed him softly, uttering calming words of comfort as he made to return home, where he would have his best healer check Elrond's wounds. "It is alright, little one. I have you."_

 _Elrond shifted in his hold, pressing himself closer to Maedhros, curling in his embrace and squeezing Maedhros's nimble fingers. Maedhros allowed it, trying to provide Elrond with all of the comfort he could._

 _But with only one hand, there was only so much Maedhros could do, the Elf bitterly thought to himself._

 _"Maedhros..." Elrond whispered, pained and cringing when he felt his arm move slightly._

 _"Quiet, little one." Maedhros murmured. "Rest. You are safe. I have you."_

 _Why he kept repeating the same phrase over and over again was beyond Maedhros, but it warmed him to see that those were the words Elrond had wanted, had needed, to hear._

 _When he glanced down to check Elrond once again, he found those expressive eyes staring up at him with pure trust and..._

 _Was that love he could see in those eyes?_

 _Maedhros hardly dared to believe it. How could this Elfling ever love him? He was a kinslayer. He was the reason why Elrond had been torn away from his home and taken from his parents. He had suffered so much, had seen so much for such a young Elfling...and it was all because of him and the Silmarils._

 _Maedhros wouldn't dare have Makalaurë share the blame._

 _In fact, it was because of Makalaurë the twins had become a part of their lives. Though they had been, at first, annoying to Maedhros, seeing as they kept following him around everywhere, Maedhros found that he did, no matter how much he denied it, cared for them. He would even go as far as to admit that he was glad his brother had convinced him to take the two with them._

 _"I have you." Maedhros said to Elrond, when the Elfling whimpered, without meaning to speak the words aloud._

 _"I know." Elrond breathed out, hissing in pain._

 _It lay as a promise between them. And even when Elrond started to doze off, Maedhros found himself whispering those same three words to him again._

 _"I have you."_

 _Unlike what Maedhros believed, Elrond was still conscious enough to have heard it and the young Elfling realized one thing while he was being carried back to the house by Maedhros._

 _He was home._

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

After hearing Elrond's tale of his rescue, the Elfling having skipped over the parts concerning the sacking of Sirion, the entire family of Finwë sat in silence, marveling over the story.

"He must have lived a hard life..." Nerdanel uttered quietly, her heart going out to the Elf Elrond had told them about. "He only had one hand?" It was unheard of, an Elf being maimed in such a way. How he had come across such an injury Nerdanel wasn't sure she wanted to know. But there was something about this Maedhros...Something that nagged at the nis.

Elrond nodded. "Yes...But he strong. He never let it put him down." The way Elrond spoke of Maedhros, with such love and adoration touched the family, and small smiles grew on their lips. "Elros and I sometime pretend to be him." He pulled the sleeve of his tunic over his hand, making it resemble only a stump as if to show them how he and his twin would role-play Maedhros. "But Maedhros keep saying to be better than him." Here, Elrond frowned. "I confused. How can I be better than Maedhros? He the best."

 _Yes, he is._ Caranthir agreed with Elrond's statement.

"Sounds like you, Nelyo." Findekano remarked, and both Turgon and Caranthir looked at one another.

Findekano would never know just how right he was about that.

"Except that I am not as strong as this Maedhros." Nelyo negated. "I don't know how I would function with only one hand. I could never be as this Maedhros is. Certainly not as strong."

And Nelyo would never know just how wrong he was about that statement, Turgon and Caranthir thought to themselves. Nelyo and the family remained oblivious to the knowing looks Turgon and Caranthir graced one another, with a hint of the horror they always felt when recalling their dark past.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Turgon was unable to keep his promise to Elrond, and it crushed him to see Elrond crumble under the fact that he wouldn't see his Atto that day. Maglor had vanished and no one knew where he had gone.

Mysteriously enough, Caranthir also disappeared and neither returned until it was late. What they were doing, Turgon never found out, but based on their appearance, he would hazard to guess they had gone to spar.

Caranthir was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly refreshed and even Maglor appeared less stressed and tired. The two bantered back and forth, snickering at one another. The playful conversation taking place ended with a wrestling match when Maglor said something Caranthir didn't appreciate and Turgon watched as Caranthir pounced onto him. Maglor fought back, the two laughing.

Nelyo and Findekano, who were still awake, openly stared at the two.

"What spell was cast over them?" Turgon overheard Findekano asking Nelyo when Caranthir howled with laughter at something Maglor had said.

"No!" Caranthir's hiss could be heard over the sound of rain tumbling to the ground. Maglor looked smug, making Turgon wonder what it was he had said to earn such a positively murderous glare from Caranthir. "Why you evil..." And Turgon wasn't even going to translate those curses Caranthir started uttering. He not longer felt as mortified as he had once before when Caranthir once directed those same curses at his family, having grown weary and bored of them.

Maglor raised both eyebrows in shock. "My, my, Moryo, where did you learn such language?!"

Caranthir said something about having overheard a certain someone, Turgon would leave the name unsaid, saying them. Apparently, he had learned many, if not all, of his curses from that particular person.

Maglor bit back a smirk, instead, saying, "Well, if they were directed towards you, I'm not at all surprised."

Turgon couldn't withhold the laughter bubbling within him at this statement. Caranthir's stunned expression made it even better and Turgon keeled over, arms wrapped around his stomach as he laughed.

Maglor peered up at him from his position on the ground, lazily smiling while Caranthir pouted. "Why, hello there, Turu."

Turgon, still laughing, failed in returning the greeting, his words catching in his throat and laughter emitting from his lips instead.

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing, why don't you?" Caranthir mumbled, glowering at the ground, though his the corner of his lips were suspiciously twitching.

Nelyo and Findekano stood rooted in their spot, watching the trio before them.

"I would never...never have guessed..." Turgon gasped out between breaths, struggling to regain his composure, "That you had...had it in you, Kano!"

Maglor shrugged. "I never would have either..." He drawled.

Caranthir punched him in the arm. "That's because he has me for a brother."

Maglor huffed out a laugh. "Oh, yes. I learned a great many things from you, dear brother-mine, and guess what? None of them were good things!"

"Excuse you!?"

Maglor continued, purposefully ignoring Caranthir and goading him on. "All of you led by example. I merely watched and learned everything I should not do."

"I resent that!"

Another round of wrestling followed and Nelyo and Findekano decided just to leave it be. Turgon joined in, unwillingly, having been dragged into the fight when Caranthir decided Turgon was also guilty of making fun of him.

Fëanaro, Finwë, and Nolofinwë later found them in a tangled heap in the courtyard, laughing and enjoying one another's company.

It was only after Nolofinwë suggested that they retire for the night that they moved into the house after the adults.

Maglor, after bathing and cleaning his room, finally plopped down onto his comfortable bed, a smile on his lips. Today had been a good day. After Turgon told Maglor and Caranthir that he discovered what year it was, the two explained Caranthir's idea of allowing the Silmarils to be forged.

It was then Turgon pointed out that they couldn't destroy the Silmarils, and so Maglor and Caranthir rephrased their sentences and explained to Turgon that by 'destroy,' they had meant 'get rid of.'

Turgon, after running through the plan, had agreed that it was probably the best course of action. It wouldn't do for them to change history as drastically as it would have had they prevented the Silmarils from being forged. Many key parts and turning points in history still had to happen, they knew.

Some would be difficult to bear and live through, but for the sake of Middle-Earth, they would.

And, Maglor reminded himself, tomorrow, he would check on Elrond.

With that in mind, Maglor slipped into the blissful realm of sleep. At least, tonight, he would finally be able to get a good night's sleep.

Or so he thought...

The moment Maglor was just about to fall asleep, the door to his room creaked open.

"Atto?"

By the Valar...

Maglor turned over, propping himself up with an arm to find Elrond shuffling towards him in the dark. He stumbled a couple of times, unable to see as well as a full-blooded Elf could in the dark.

"Ionya?"

How on Eru's green earth did Elrond manage to find his room?

Elrond paused before his bed, raising a fist to rub his eye and sleepily looking up at his Atto.

Maglor, still a little surprised, watched as Elrond grabbed hold of the bed and climb up onto it, struggling a little since he was smaller than the bed itself. Maglor helped him up the rest of the way and the Elfling happily settled close to his Atto, clutching a familiar stuffed animal close to him. Draping an arm around Elrond, Maglor quietly asked in Sindarin, "Where did you get Russe, Elrond?"

Russe had been Nelyo's stuffed red-brown bear when he had been an Elfling, and it had been given to Maglor when he was little, then passed down to all of the other brothers. It was a special stuffed animal, and had yet to be passed down to the twins.

Elrond yawned out his response, he, too, slipping back into Sindarin, "Nelyo gave it to me. Curvo had it, but he let Nelyo take it so he can give it to me."

Maglor smirked. So, Curvo had kept the bear all to himself? It was no wonder the twins had yet to receive it.

"I miss Bragol though..." Elrond admitted, reminiscing over the stuffed wolf he had to leave behind since his miraculous teleportation to Valinor.

"Bragol?" Maglor repeated, barely remembering the stuffed animal Elrond was referring to. He had always wondered why Elrond had named his wolf 'sudden' in Sindarin, but he had never asked. Elrond had been very attached to the stuffed wolf, never letting it out of his sight and taking care of it. He knew Elrond, when he had grown up and become the Lord of Rivendell, had kept the wolf in one of his tiny chests filled with memoirs of his time with Maedhros and Maglor.

Elrond had even given it to his twins sons, after making them promise that they would take especially good care of it. Apparently, Elrond had explained to him where and when he had gotten the wolf, and the twins, hearing how special the wolf was to their Ada, made sure that nothing bad ever happened to Bragol.

Elrond tiredly hummed in answer to Maglor's previous question.

"Who gave Bragol to you anyway, Elrond? I don't remember ever having any stuffed animals in Himring." Maglor said. He knew quite well that Himring had been empty of any toys for Elflings and they most certainly never had any stuffed animals. It was only after Elrond and Elros had been brought to Himring that they bought toys for the twins to amuse themselves with.

"Atar." Elrond answered, tightening his hold on the bear.

Maglor wasn't sure if he had heard him correctly. "Maedhros gave him to you?" He asked, just to make sure. He felt Elrond nod against his chest, where the Elfling had curled up. "He _did?_ " Incredulous, Maglor's voice pitched up an octave.

"Yes."

"When?" Maglor wanted to know, still surprised. He didn't remember this, and why hadn't Maedhros told him?

"It was after you left. I was sad and Elros left to see 'Res. I went to see Atar..." Elrond trailed off a moment when he heard the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. He shrank closer to his Atto and Maglor reassuringly ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't think he was expecting me. He let me stay with him that night."

Maglor raised both eyebrows at this, amazed. He knew how uneasy Maedhros had felt around the twins and he always preferred to keep his distance from them. It was difficult for him to even speak with them, much less interact with them in any way. For Maedhros to allow Elrond to stay with him...

"The next day, he left without telling us where he was going. I thought he was upset with me." Elrond shyly admitted. "But when he came back, he gave me Bragol."

Elrond remembered how surprised and nervous he had been when Maedhros had suddenly entered his and Elros's room and approached him. Elrond had had to tilt his head all the way back in order to see Maedhros, seeing as the Elf was three times as tall as he was. It didn't help that he was sitting down either. Fearing that he was in trouble, Elrond had bowed his head and quickly apologized for bothering Maedhros that last night.

Instead of reprimanding him, as he had expected, Maedhros had knelt down in front of him, appearing less intimidating than before. _'Here.'_ Maedhros had said, holding his hand out and showing Elrond the stuffed, black, wolf he held. Elrond had jerked his head up in surprise, wide eyes regarding Maedhros for a few moment, searching. ' _This is Bragol.'_ Maedhros had introduced the stuffed wolf, watching as Elrond shyly took hold of it and cradle it close to him. ' _He was in the marketplace searching for a companion...Someone who would take good care of him.'_

 _'I will!'_ Elrond had immediately said, squeezing the stuffed wolf against him and smiling widely. Elrond thought he imagined the slight grin playing at Maedhros's lips and the softening of his dark blue eyes. ' _Thank-you, Atar.'_

The name had slipped from him before he could stop it, but Elrond hardly noticed. Maedhros had, however, and he had very nearly reeled back in surprise.

Of course, Elrond had kept true to his word, even though he had only had the wolf for a little over a week now.

After Elrond had finished explaining where and how he had gotten Bragol, Maglor understood why the wolf had been given that name.

He smiled.

"I see...I'm sure Bragol misses you too, Elrond, but I know Maedhros and Elros will take good care of him."

Elrond nodded in agreement, yawning again and purposefully ignoring the thunder that decided to make itself known. "Atto..?" He sleepily called, eyes drooping.

"Hm?"

"Nelyo..."

"What about him?" Maglor cracked open an eye to see Elrond, smiling softly and tugging his blanket up and over Elrond's shoulders. Elrond sighed, snuggling further into the comfortable blankets.

"He reminds me of Maedhros."

All Maglor could do was agree. "Indeed he does, Elrond...Indeed he does."

"I miss Atar, Atto." Elrond admitted, starting to fall asleep. "Do you miss him too?"

Maglor felt his heart constrict. It had been so long since he had seen Maedhros, but for Elrond, it had only been a couple of days. "I do, little one."

"Will we see Maedhros again?" Here, Elrond turned in Maglor's hold, peering up at his Atto questioningly. Maglor exhaled quietly.

"Maybe one day."

Elrond was content with the answer and allowed himself to drift off into sleep. Maglor, however, didn't. He spent a few more minutes thinking over Maedhros and repeating Elrond's story about Bragol in his mind.

Would Elrond ever see Maedhros again?

It was a good question, and one Maglor didn't know the answer to. If they were to successfully get rid of the Silmarils, Elrond and Elros would never be raised by Maglor or Maedhros. They would never become the family they had after the sacking of Sirion.

But...Maglor was sure their paths would cross one day, and he would cherish those moments, even though the twins would never understand how much they meant to him.

Right now, Maglor would spend all of the quality time he had with Elrond.

This would probably be the only time Maglor would ever be Elrond's Father.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Caranthir lurched upright in his bed, momentarily forgetting to breath, eyes wide. He was panting heavily, his heart beating frantically within his chest as tears streamed down his cheeks. His eyes darted about the room before Caranthir flung himself out of his bed.

In his haste, Caranthir tangled himself up in his sheets and the dark Elf crashed into the unforgiving floor. He felt no pain, however, when his body met the cold, hard, ground, Caranthir blinded by his panic and need to find his brother.

Thunder bellowed outside and the window vibrated, but Caranthir hardly heard it over the sound of his own fast-paced heart-beat thumping in his ears. Lightning flashed in retort, illuminating the entire room and Caranthir crawled over to the door, still caught between the realms of wakefulness and sleep. He dragged himself up, hand fumbling for the door knob.

Once he found it, Caranthir flung his door open, the door slamming into the hallway wall with a loud bang, and fled across the corridor to the room he was searching for.

Even though he wasn't in his right mind, Caranthir's feet knew the way and the ner found himself outside his brother's room in record time. Immediately, he pounded on the door, calling out his brother's name, and casting it open. He fell into the room, unable to keep himself upright, dry heaves shaking his body.

He hardly heard the rustle of fabric signalling that his brother had awoken, but he did hear Maglor's concerned calls.

"Moryo!" Hands grabbed hold of him, moving up to tip his face up. His panicked eyes met those of Maglor's and Caranthir threw himself at his brother.

"Maglor..." He hoarsely gasped out, crushing his brother to death in the vice-like grip he had him in. He sobbed, feeling Maglor encircling his arms around him, worry stirring in the air as Maglor reciprocated the desperate embrace.

"Moryo, what is it? What's wrong?"

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

Maglor shot upright in his bed, when he heard Elrond's startled cry.

"Elrond!" Maglor exclaimed, reaching out to the frightened Elfling. Elrond had hidden himself underneath the covers, and so all Maglor could see was an odd lump beside him in the bed shaking violently. "What is it? What's the matter?" He asked, lifting up the blanket in order to see Elrond. The Elfling whimpered in response, crawling closer to him.

The thunder that fiercely bellowed answered Maglor's question. Understanding dawned over Maglor and he pulled the Elfling up into his lap, rocking him back and forth in a soothing manner, murmuring calm words to the scared Peredhil.

Muffled words were mumbled against his shoulder, where Elrond had buried his face, and Maglor tilted his head. "What was that?"

Elrond pulled back slightly, only to fly back into him when the thunder struck again. "Sumfin' not right." He scarcely whispered, still trembling in Maglor's hold.

"What do you mean?" Maglor asked him, searching the room for anything that Elrond might have sensed. He didn't sense anything amiss.

"I don' know." Elrond shook his head against his shoulder, fingers digging into Maglor's night shirt.

It was at that moment thunder struck again.

Wait...

That wasn't thunder. That was the sound of a door slamming against a wall...

Maglor turned in time to watch the doors to his room fly open and a dark shadow stumble inside.

"Maglor..." a breathless call, before the shadow crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. "Maglor!" A desperate cry.

Maglor shot off his bed, his heart skipping a beat.

"Moryo!" He rushed over to his younger brother, hands reaching out and grabbing hold of the trembling Elf. Holding his brother's face in his hands, he tilted Caranthir's head up to see what was wrong, only to meet wide, panicked brown eyes.

"Maglor!" Caranthir slumped over, heaving. Maglor held him, fearfully trying to figure out what was wrong. His brother was shaking uncontrollably, and there was complete and utter horror and despair stirring in the atmosphere around them.

"Moryo! What is it? What's wrong!?" Maglor demanded to know, his fear spiking up another notch when Caranthir pitched over and heaved again. Recognizing the signs of illness creeping onto Caranthir's pale face, Maglor bodily hauled Caranthir up and rushed towards the window, shoving them open and helping Caranthir to lean over the edge. He was just in time, too. Quickly, Maglor collected all of Caranthir's hair and held it out of his face as Caranthir vomited up everything he had eaten that day. Worried sick, Maglor held Caranthir in place for a few moments longer until Caranthir slumped against him, brokenly sobbing and mumbling incoherently. "Moryo!" Maglor held him close, rocking back and forth in the hopes of calming his brother.

Quickly scanning over his brother, Maglor slowly came to realize that he recognized the symptoms he was seeing. These were all symptoms he knew well.

Caranthir had suffered from a nightmare.

Maglor didn't even notice that Elrond had darted over to the door in the far side of his room, throwing it open and running inside, busy trying to calm his brother after his newly found discovery.

Thinking quickly, Maglor started to hum one of Caranthir's favorite songs, one he remembered humming when Caranthir was an Elfling.

"Maglor!" Caranthir whimpered.

Maglor shushed him.

"Shh, you're alright, Moryo..." Then he continued with his melodious humming while Caranthir continued to cry. The dark Elf let Maglor hold him, his hands clutching handfuls of Maglor's nightshirt in a death-grip.

"We can't do it...We can't..." Caranthir said between gasps, his shoulders shaking.

Maglor drew his brows together, wondering what his brother was talking about. He remained silent, fingers tangled in his brother's silky, black, strands.

"I can't...I can't let you..." Caranthir continued, strengthening his grip, and Maglor barely suppressed a wince when his brother's fingers dug into his back.

"What can't you let happen, Moryo? What is it?" Maglor tried to ask, but it didn't seem as if Caranthir could hear him. "Moryo," He tried again, resting his chin on the crown of his brother's head. "You're alright. You're okay. You had a nightmare." He moved a hand up and down Caranthir's back, seeking to calm him. The nightmare still had somewhat of a hold on him, refusing to let go of Caranthir. Maglor couldn't allow that.

Caranthir immediately shook his head, a sob catching in his throat. "It is no nightmare. Maglor...I was wrong...I was wrong!"

Caranthir was growing hysterical, and Maglor was beginning to grow even more unnerved. What in Arda could his brother have seen?

"Hush, now, Moryo. What is wrong..?"

"My plan..! My plan..!"

"Moryo..?"

"It will kill you!"

A little taken aback by the statement, Maglor raised his head to look down at the shaken Caranthir he held. "What are you talking about?"

"It was a vision..." Caranthir managed to say, still breathing heavily, but Maglor could tell that he was growing a little more calm. "I had a vision..." Tears welled up in his eyes and Maglor returned to soothing him.

"What did you see, Moryo?" Caranthir didn't answer. He couldn't bring himself to. "Tell me." Maglor sternly, but gently, ordered.

Caranthir suddenly went still, the deathly-tight grip he had on Maglor loosened and the dark-Elf shakily inhaled, clearly reliving the moments of his nightmare in his mind.

Whatever he had dreamed, it had certainly disturbed Caranthir, which made Maglor immensely worried. Had Caranthir seen how their quest would end? Would they fail?

Distraught, Caranthir tipped his head up, dragging his eyes up to meet Maglor's own concerned blue orbs.

"I saw..." Caranthir started, in a small, meekly manner before his voice cracked. He coughed then heaved again and Maglor propped him up as best he could. "I saw..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, but Maglor pressed for an answer. He needed one. He needed to know what had made Caranthir react in such a way.

"What did you see, Moryo?" Maglor asked in a calm voice.

The answer he received was not one he was expecting nor what he had guessed as Caranthir went to respond in a haunted tone,

"Your death."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _ **Ended with a bit of a dark note and this chapter's shorter than all the other chapters, I know. But I promise to make it up to you guys! The next chapter will be much longer. I hope this chapter was okay. I'm not exactly happy with it, but oh well.  
**_


	11. Duel

_**Woohoo! I back with another chapter, guys! Can you believe it? I've been gone for so long! Much longer than I intended, please forgive me. There was a LOT of drama I had to take care of. Thankfully, it's died down, so I should have more time to work on this story. I have absolutely no intention of abandoning it.  
**_ _ **I did promise to make it up to you guys, and I will with a double update! So here I am with Chapter 10! Please, read and enjoy. Just a heads up, I refer to Maglor as Makalaurë when he is being seen through the eyes of his family members. For example, when one of the sons of Fëanaro, perhaps even Fëanaro himself, etc... is talking, or watching, Maglor, they'll refer to him as Makalaurë. Any other time, Maglor will be called Maglor.**_

 _ ** _Reviews are always welcome, especially if you guys have some constructive cri_ ticism.**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Whatever he had dreamed, it had certainly disturbed Caranthir, which made Maglor immensely worried. Had Caranthir seen how their quest would end? Would they fail?

Distraught, Caranthir tipped his head up, dragging his eyes up to meet Maglor's own concerned blue orbs.

"I saw..." Caranthir started, in a small, meekly manner before his voice cracked. He coughed then heaved again and Maglor propped him up as best he could. "I saw..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, but Maglor pressed for an answer. He needed one. He needed to know what had made Caranthir react in such a way.

"What did you see, Moryo?" Maglor asked in a calm voice.

The answer he received was not one he was expecting nor what he had guessed as Caranthir went to respond in a haunted tone,

"Your death."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

There were long moments of silence that passed after Caranthir's answer. All Maglor could do was stare at his brother, blinking every-so-often as though wondering if he had heard correctly.

Awkwardly, Maglor cleared his throat, trying to break the tense silence. "My...death?" He repeated in a soft, inquisitive tone.

Caranthir's dark brown eyes slid shut as he nodded, fighting to keep the tears glistening in them at bay.

"And it was all because of me."

Maglor instantly reacted to his brother's self-accusation, his voice forceful. " _No!_ " He gently shook Caranthir's shoulders. "Don't you dare blame yourself, Moryo!"

"But it _was_ me!" Caranthir vehemently declared, causing Maglor to flinch back. "It was _my_ plan!" His voice cracked.

Maglor shook his head, moving to speak but Caranthir didn't let him. "I had thought it was better than stopping Atto from forging the Silmarils, but I was wrong. It made everything worse." He continued in a shaky whisper.

"Moryo, it was a nightmare."

"A _vision_ , Maglor, _not_ a _nightmare_." Caranthir hissed. "I think, being prone to having visions, I would recognize one."

Maglor confusedly blinked. "What do you mean?"

His younger brother didn't respond immediately, the Elf lowering his gaze to stare at the ground. "You remember those nightmares I used to have when I was little? The ones you could never wake me up from?"

"Yes." Maglor slowly replied, thinking he knew where this was going.

"They were visions." Caranthir whispered, clenching his fists tightly together. "They weren't nightmares. What happened in them...Happened in real life, only several decades down the road."

Maglor's eyes widened. "You are serious?"

Caranthir nodded, swallowing audibly. "I saw everything happen...When Laurelin and Telperion, the Two Trees, were destroyed, it came as no surprise to me. Atto's refusal to give the Silmarils to Yavanna was nothing I wasn't expecting. Our journey to Middle-Earth, the burning of the Teleri Ships, the Kinslayings...I knew. I knew they would happen long before they came to pass. I just never believed them until they did."

Now that Caranthir confessed this, Maglor found it wasn't difficult to believe him. It made sense.

"That explains...everything." Maglor murmured, raising stunned eyes to meet his brother's own haunted ones. The minstrel momentarily forgot about how they were previously discussing Caranthir foreseeing his own death, asking his brother, "Your actions...your acceptance...Why didn't you say anything?"

It was a genuine question rather than an accusation, and Caranthir quietly answered, "I had thought it would be of no use. After everything we'd done, what good would telling you of my visions do? We couldn't have gone against the Oath. We couldn't...we couldn't save ourselves. We were already doomed the moment we stepped foot out of Aman."

Maglor thought over his brother's words. He didn't blame Caranthir. After all, would they have believed Caranthir if he had claimed that he had visions when he was an Elfling? Not unless Caranthir had proven it, perhaps.

"Maglor..." Caranthir whispered, drawing Maglor's attention back to him. "We can't let Atto forge the Silmarils."

Maglor shook his head. "We don't know for certain, Moryo. I feel your plan is better than our original one. Din agrees. We know some of what would happen if we let Atar create the jewels. If we were to stop him, everything that needs to happen wouldn't. It would change everything, and we don't know if it would change it for the better or for worse." He reasoned, kindly disagreeing with Caranthir's statement.

Caranthir looked torn and upset. "Maglor, for these past five years, I believed you were dead." He raised his head and pinned Maglor with a mixture of pain mingled with grief and anguish. "I can't go through that again. Neither of us can."

"Moryo-" Maglor tried to speak, but Caranthir interrupted him yet again.

"What if I were to tell you that I saw a vision of my own death?" The dark Elf questioned his brother, leaning against Maglor. Resting his head against the minstrel's shoulders, he asked, "Would you still have wanted to go through with the plan even though you knew what the losses would be?"

Maglor was silent.

"You wouldn't, would you." Caranthir knowingly stated.

Maglor lowered his head, sighing quietly. "No...I wouldn't."

"Then you understand. Surely..." Caranthir trailed off, brows drawn together as he tried to think. "Surely there is something else we can do..."

Maglor sorrowfully smiled, shaking his head again. "Moryo, we cannot change everything. Even if we were to find a way to...to change my fate, who would suffer in my place? What would be the consequences?" He pointed out, still swaying back and forth as he held onto Caranthir. Maglor would be lying if he were to say he didn't feel afraid... but he had known that dealing with the Silmarils would call for a sacrifice of some kind. He had accepted that fact not too long ago. "If I am to die...At least I will know that we succeeded."

Caranthir said nothing.

Maglor respected his silence.

"I still...I don't want you to die." Caranthir told Maglor, his voice trembling, and his grip tightened on the minstrel.

Maglor chuckled quietly. "Moryo, even if I were to die, we would reunite again, here." He reminded his distraught younger brother.

It would be better than having to watch all of you die again... Maglor thought to himself.

Caranthir hesitantly shook his head against Maglor's shoulder, clutching Maglor's hand. "That's where you're wrong." He exhaled shakily. "We wouldn't."

Maglor was confused by this. "What do you mean?"

Caranthir inhaled deeply, his breath stuttering. "Maglor...In the vision...I watched as your fëa was shattered."

Maglor blinked several times.

"That's impossible..."

"That's what we're led to believe." Caranthir softly negated. "But he managed to do it."

One word in that sentence caught Maglor's attention. "He?"

He would have pressed Caranthir further into telling who this 'he' was, but it was at that moment Maglor heard the sound of rushed footsteps approaching his bedroom. The already opened door provided entry to two Elves and a frightened Elfling.

Maglor drew his gaze up to meet Nelyo's concerned ones as their elder brother looked at Maglor's kneeling form and the curled up Caranthir he held in a comforting, loose, embrace.

"What happened?" Nelyo asked at once, striding over to them and kneeling before Maglor, reaching out to grasp Caranthir's shoulder. "Elerondo came to me claiming that Moryo had collapsed..." He said no more, waiting for his brothers to answer the unspoken question he'd left unsaid. Catching sight of Caranthir's tear-streaked face and haunted, pained, eyes, Nelyo snapped his eyes up at Maglor, demanding an answer.

"He-" Maglor began when Caranthir interjected,

"A nightmare happened." The dark-Elf muttered, staring off into the space.

Maglor sharply looked to him, pressing his lips tightly together. Nelyo shot Maglor a questioning glance, to which the minstrel nodded, going along with Caranthir's lie.

Well, was it even a lie? Perhaps a half-truth?

Did visions count as both a dream and nightmare depending on what it showed? Was a vision its own thing?

Maglor was going to say it was a half-truth.

"Are you alright?" Nelyo asked Caranthir, knowing full-well how terrible his nightmares could get. Caranthir didn't have to think over the question, slowly shaking his head.

Wasn't worth lying to his brothers.

Maglor spoke for him. "It will take him some time to recover."

Nelyo looked to him.

"It was a rather...intense nightmare."

Intense was an understatement, Caranthir bitterly thought to himself, feeling cold.

Nelyo appeared troubled and concerned, but he said nothing more. He knew Caranthir would grow irritated with all of the attention he was receiving, so he didn't press them anymore.

"If you say so..."

"Is he okay?" A small voice inquired and the Elves looked to find Elrond half-hidden behind Findekano, who'd remained standing in the doorway of the room. Elrond had his arms wrapped around Findekano's knee and was leaning against the tall Elf for comfort after being scared by Caranthir's collapse.

Findekano reassuringly placed a hand on Elrond's head, he, too, waiting for an answer.

"Fine." Caranthir huffed out. Catching sight of the disapproving look Maglor fixed him with, he corrected himself, "I'll be fine."

 _Maybe,_ he mentally added to himself.

Foreseeing the death of Maglor had shaken him badly. It was something he would never get over, especially when he knew for a certainty that it would happen. How Maglor took this all into stride was something he didn't understand.

He had reacted far better than Caranthir had, but he did recognize the faint glimmer of fear reflected in those sad blue eyes his brother had.

"Alright." Nelyo sighed, soothingly ruffling Caranthir's hair.

Caranthir growled, glaring up at the red-head from beneath a curtain of messy black hair. He didn't bother to fix it, not exactly wanting to move at the moment.

Elrond released his hold on Findekano and padded over, leaning over Nelyo's shoulder to see Caranthir. His wide grey eyes were filled with worry and concern for his uncle.

"It's alright, Elerondo." Caranthir assured the Elfling. "I'm going to be fine."

Elrond didn't believe him, but he didn't say anything. He only nodded uncertainly. He could sense the turmoil Caranthir was feeling and the distraught and mixed emotions whirling within him.

He wasn't fine, but Elrond knew better than to point this out.

After a few moments, Nelyo leaned over and kissed Caranthir's brow, brushing away the hair that stuck to the dark-Elf's forehead. "I will leave you with Makalaurë, then. I am certain you have no intention of returning to your own room." Nelyo knowingly said.

Caranthir tiredly nodded, telling Nelyo he was right. The Elf slowly sat up, and Maglor released him, only to help him stand.

Caranthir's balance was a little shaky, yet he managed to remain standing. Nelyo stood with them, a debate taking place in his mind as he regarded Maglor.

Maglor felt a pang of hurt and guilt stab through his heart when he recognized the uncertainty lingering in Nelyo's gaze.

His elder brother had no idea where he stood with Maglor, and it didn't help that Maglor also didn't know how to be around Nelyo. He had grown accustomed to dealing with Maedhros that he had nearly forgotten what it was to have Nelyo around instead of Maedhros.

"I bid you goodnight, then." Was all Nelyo said as he turned and headed for the door.

A rush of fear shot through Maglor and without thinking, the minstrel called out to his brother, reaching out and sinking his fingers into the fabric of Nelyo's sleeve before his brother could move any farther.

"Nelyo!"

He would not lose his brother! He refused to allow there to be any distance between them like he had between he and his Father! He had missed Nelyo too much, and now that he had the chance to be with him again, Maglor was going to embrace it. Especially with the limited amount of time Maglor had left in this world. He was going to make the most of everything.

Nelyo turned in time to receive an armful of Maglor as the minstrel hugged him tightly.

Surprise stole over Nelyo's features as the Elf staggered back, deftly catching his balance and happily returning the embrace. Relief flooded through him as Nelyo quirked an eyebrow.

"What is this?"

"Don't _ever_ leave without giving me a proper goodnight, Nelyo. I won't accept it." Maglor declared, a warm feeling overcoming him as he fondly recalled the times Nelyo would check on him after bedtime and bid him goodnight. "I went ten years without it, I'm not about to suffer another ten years deprived of it!" If only his brother knew it had been longer than just a decade...

Nelyo smiled against his brother's hair, patting his back. "Forgive me." He quietly apologized. The two stepped back and Maglor grinned up at him.

"What do you say to a spar tomorrow?"

Nelyo didn't bother to hide his surprise at the suggestion. "Spar? You?"

Maglor only smiled charmingly, mischief brewing in his dark eyes. "Of course. You'd be surprised by how much I have learned these past few years."

"Will I now..? Very well. I'm curious to see how you handle a blade. Where did you learn...if you don't mind me asking?"

"I was taught by a friend." Maglor evasively answered, wrapping an arm around Caranthir's shoulders when the younger Elf stepped up to his side. Caranthir didn't shake him off. "He figured it would do me well to learn how to defend myself."

"Indeed..." Nelyo frowned thoughtfully. "Would this _friend_ happen to be Maedhros?" He asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

There was more to it, Maglor knew. His brother had this...look on his face. It was the same one Turgon had described to him after Elrond had spoken about Maedhros to the entire family.

He bit back the urge to ask his brother what he knew.

Or what he thought he knew. It bugged him to know Nelyo seemed to be catching onto something, but he didn't know what.

Maglor only dipped his chin in response, sorrow stealing over his features. "It was Maedhros." He replied, quietly, almost reverently.

Though, if he were to be honest, it was Nelyo who had started to train him after the Silmarils creation. It was as if his brother had known ahead of time that Maglor would need to know how to fight. He knew his way with a blade before they left for Middle-Earth, and it was only after they had made a new home there that Maedhros started teaching him how to use other weapons just in case he was unable to use his blade or was disarmed.

The knowledge most certainly came in handy several times during their time in Middle-Earth.

Maglor tipped his head to the side and smiled widely,

It was a little odd to see, the minstrel smiling so much when he very rarely smiled now-a-days, but it made Nelyo's heart sing.

"Maedhros and I would spar often, until he was pleased with my progress." Maglor grimaced a little, vividly remembering those vigorous training sessions. Not once was he able to escape unscathed. "It was worse than when Atar tried to teach me, but I did learn a lot."

"I see..." Nelyo said, giving Maglor an odd look. It was a little difficult to envision his brother training, yet at the same time, Nelyo was curious to see all that he had learned. "Well, then, tomorrow morning- ah no. That won't do." Nelyo said to himself, thinking over all that he had to do the next day. "Evening. It will have to be in the evening. Ammë has asked me to complete some errands for her, and after I am finished with those, we can spar."

Maglor felt excitement growing within him and he agreed with Nelyo. It certainly would be refreshing to spar again. "Evening it is, then."

They bid one another goodnight, and only after Elrond had given Nelyo a hug, still put off with how much this Elf reminded him of Maedhros, did Nelyo and Findekano leave the room.

After they had left, Maglor turned to find that Caranthir had already taken his bed and was buried deep within the covers facing the window to watch the storm, hoping it would help him to calm down. Elrond had crawled in with him, tucking himself close to the dark-Elf, still sensing the troubling emotions his uncle was feeling. Caranthir didn't move, except to help Elrond get comfortable.

Maglor regarded his brother quietly, sighing silently. The vision had definitely affected Caranthir, and it set Maglor on edge.

Would their plan work? Would they succeed or would they fail? Would Maglor live long enough to find out?

He walked over to his bed, perching on the edge of the mattress and staring down at his hands. How much longer did he have to live if everything went according to plan? Exactly how would he die?

There were many questions Maglor wanted answers to, but he didn't want to press his brother into giving him more details of the vision, knowing it wouldn't help Caranthir out at all.

Perhaps he could ask Din a few questions...

It was worth a shot. Maglor would go for anything right now, even her vague responses. At least he would be able to work with something.

 _'Din.'_

There was only silence. Confused, Maglor called out to her again.

' _Din?'_

Nothing.

Maglor frowned deeply. This was troubling. Din was normally always there, ready to answer any of his questions or just to talk. He had discovered that Din loved to talk, and so, for her to be this silent didn't sit well with Maglor.

It was always possible that Din had something to do that required for her to leave for some time, but wouldn't Din have said something to him?

Choosing not too worry too much over Din's absence, Maglor settled on the right side of his bed, intertwining his fingers together over his chest. Listening to the thunder and watching as lightning continued to light up his room, Maglor thought over their plan.

They needed to do something.

And they needed to do something soon. Was there a way they could, perchance, give their family hints of what was to come? Prepare them in a way?

That was only a question he could ask Din, but she was gone.

Another thing he needed to know was if Nelyo had been chosen. The words Din had said to him the other night made no sense to Maglor.

 _'If I remember correctly, Din said something about two being among us, another from a land far away, and a fourth who lingers in the shadows...'_ Aredhel had told him after admitting to Maglor that she was indeed Aredhel, as he had previously thought.

All in all, that made six of them.

If Nelyo had been chosen, Din would have told them that there were seven of them.

Releasing another sigh, Maglor turned over on his side and tried to get some sleep. He definitely needed it. Tomorrow, he would set to work trying to see what they could do about their little predicament.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~  
**_  
 **The next day...**

Maglor patiently waited for the time Nelyo would arrive for the spar they had scheduled for that evening. He definitely needed to spar. He had hardly been able to focus during the entire day, too caught up in everything that had happened last night and thinking of a plan. He had been tiring himself out mentally that it was draining him physically. Nerdanel had commented on how exhausted and weary Maglor had appeared earlier that day, her concern evident in those vibrant green orbs, but Maglor had only assured her that everything was fine. Nerdanel, of course, knew better but she didn't press him, instead sending him out to watch the twins.

He had watched young Pityo and Ambarto willingly. The twins always had a tendency to put a smile back on Maglor's face.

Caranthir had strolled out of the house to watch the sparring session, curious to see how much Maglor had improved since last he had seen him, taking Tyelko and Curvo along with him. Turgon, who had been accompanying Maglor for most of the day, was outside with the minstrel, walking down the path that would lead them to the small training field near their home.

Tyelko and Curvo, Maglor overheard as they strolled down the path, were making bets with one another. He rolled his eyes at the two, listening as Caranthir remained neutral. When they asked him his opinion, Caranthir would give reasons why Nelyo could win and reasons why he could lose, then do the same for Maglor, never specifically stating who he was wagering would win.

Tyelko and Curvo weren't amused, but decided it was useless to get Caranthir involved in their bet.

"Excited for your spar?" Turgon asked Maglor when they were halfway to the field. Maglor looked to him, smiling slightly.

"I am. It has been so long since last I sparred with him." He quietly replied. "It will be a little strange, but I cannot wait."

Turgon gave a barely perceptible nod at his words, tilting his head up to study the sky through the canopy of the trees surrounding them.

It was a lovely evening for a spar. There was a cool breeze that felt refreshing to Maglor and the forest's aroma was more than welcoming to Maglor. It reminded him of everything he had nearly forgotten about his childhood home. There were heavy, grey clouds blocking the sun from their view, but it was still pretty light.

As they were drawing near to the training field, the five Elves heard the sound of metal striking metal, informing them that there was already a spar, or training session taking place.

Maglor glanced back at his brothers inquisitively. "You are all here...Who could possibly be sparring?"

"Or training." Tyelko said, shrugging his shoulders. "No idea. Maybe Nelyo arrived early and decided to practice."

"Might be Findekano and Nelyo." Turgon suggested. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Nor would we." Maglor and his brothers chimed, glancing at one another with a smirk. It had been awhile since they had ever said anything in unison. Maglor recalled many moments where it unnerved Elves who would listen as they would finish one another's sentences or say everything at the same time as if they had read each other's minds. It was a rather effective way in which they would get something they wanted. Their poor Grandfather was usually their victim, since he could hardly ever bring himself to say 'no.'

Tyelko then bounded up to Maglor's side, beaming up at his brother.

"Have you, by chance, been practicing archery?" He asked him, a tad bit more hopefully than he had meant to. He held his bow in his hand, one he had carved himself, and lifted it up for Maglor to see it.

Maglor laughed, a sound the sons of Fëanaro treasured.

The shell that had been their brother was slowly disappearing, with the minstrel warping back into the Makalaurë they once knew and loved dearly.

Still chuckling, Maglor nodded and answered Tyelko's question. "I have practiced my archery, and I daresay that I have become a good shot."

He had to be when hunting in the forests near the sea. He had mostly self-taught himself while hunting in the forests, trying to learn how to shoot a moving target. There was always that guilt that clung to him whenever he would strike an animal down, and he never understood how his brothers could hunt for fun.

"Really?" Tyelko excitedly asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We should have a contest!"

Maglor laughed again, tugging his brother into a one-arm embrace. "Yes. That would be fun."

"Truly!?"

Maglor nodded, the smile never fading.

How he had missed his brothers. With them around, life was never boring.

"One of these days. But it's up to you to decide if we'll use stationary targets or moving targets."

Tyelko's eyes bulged. "You can do moving targets!?" He incredulously asked Maglor, shocked. Maglor nodded.

"Oh, yes. If they are big, of course."

Curvo chuckled at this and Caranthir grinned while Tyelko rolled his eyes.

"Big ones are no fun!"

"But they are easy. Maybe even targets about this size..." Makalaurë added, raising his hands to show Tyelko what he meant. The empty space between his hands was about the size of a rabbit...a large rabbit.

"Makalaurë..." Tyelko tsked, though his lips twitched upwards.

"If you want to do small ones, by all means, we can." Maglor shrugged one shoulder, telling Tyelko that it was up to him to decide.

Tyelko beamed, even more excited than before.

"Two days time?"

"I don't see why not."

"I can't wait!" Tyelko cheered, and Maglor couldn't help but smile at his brother's happiness. Tyelko's eyes shined brightly and his smile was one of pure joy, his golden hair dancing in the breeze as he walked beside Maglor.

'So young,' Maglor thought to himself. 'And so full of joy. We were all so young when it happened.' He narrowed his eyes on the path. 'It will change. It will be different. It will not happen again.' He determinedly thought. 'I won't lose them.'

"Hey, Makalaurë," Curvo piped up, his voice low and soft that Maglor wouldn't have heard him if the breeze hadn't carried his voice over to him. Maglor looked to find him right next to him, opposite of Tyelko, "You've promised to compete against Tyelko, you've sparred against Moryo, and are about to spar with Nelyo, and spent a lot of time with the twins..." Blue clashed with blue when Curvo raised his eyes to meet Maglor's. "What about me?"

Here, Maglor inwardly hesitated. He most certainly did not want to go to the Forge, much less _into_ the Forge, but Curvo was giving him that look Maglor could never, ever, say no to.

Was he the one Ambarto and Pityo had learned the kicked puppy look from?

Though Curvo's was more subtle than the twins, Maglor could see the hope brewing in those dark orbs and he was a little surprised. Curvo was a quiet, reserved, Elf but he was most definitely a son of Fëanaro. He had the same temperament, though Curvo never truly lashed out at any of them, and he was much calmer. Because of the bored demeanor Curvo had, he often made other Elves believe he didn't have any interest in anything but forging or that he could care less about everything around him. He did have a sharp tongue, but no one ever truly took offense to anything Curvo said to them. Out of all of the sons of Fëanaro, Curvo strongly resembled their Father. He was basically a mini-Fëanaro, only much younger.

Maglor breathed in deeply. He did owe his brother. If Curvo wanted him to come down to the Forge, he would.

"What do you want to do?" Maglor asked him, part of him guiltily hoping Curvo wouldn't want to go to the Forge. Curvo looked down at his feet, as if debating what he wanted to do, then back up at him.

"I want to go riding."

Maglor blinked a couple of times. "You want to go riding?" he slowly repeated, as if to make sure he had heard him correctly. Curvo dipped his head in response.

"Down to the Valley."

It took Maglor a moment to understand what his brother meant, his thoughts automatically turning to Rivendell when he said 'Valley.' Thankfully, since Din had restored his memory, Maglor could remember the Valley he and his brothers used to always go down to and camp out for a few days just enjoying one another's company. Maglor immediately agreed, having missed those days greatly.

"I would love to do that...It has been a while."

Curvo gave a barely perceptible grin.

It was at that moment that the five Elves emerged from the woods to find themselves in the training field. Looking up, they found that it was Nelyo who was sparring...but it was not Findekano he was sparring against.

Maglor stopped suddenly, having not expected to find Fëanaro here, in the training field. Yet, there he was, dueling against Nelyo.

Both were covered in sweat, telling Maglor that they had been at it for a while, and the duel appeared rather intense. Fëanaro was beating down on Nelyo with all of his strength, refusing to hold back, and Nelyo was doing his best to counter the blows he was raining down on him.

The Elves watched the lethal dance, entranced by the graceful ways in which both Elves fought. Their movements were fluid and precise yet fast and dangerous.

Fëanaro would lash out with a quick strike Nelyo would skillfully manage to block by twisting his blade and deflecting the blow. Both moved to attack and their swords clashed against one another. Locked together, Fëanaro and Nelyo tried using their strength to shove the other back. It didn't work, seeing as they were about as strong as the other. Fëanaro was stronger, but not by much. Nelyo also had the advantage of height.

Though height could also be a disadvantage, Maglor mused, recalling a certain incident that had taken place when Maedhros had been training Elrond. It had been the first time Maglor had ever truly seen Maedhros taken by surprise yet impressed with the shy Peredhel's quick thinking.

The dueling Elves ended up shoving one another back, ripping their blades away from one another then lunging in an attempt to land a hit on each other. Fëanaro had acted faster than Nelyo, leaving Nelyo with no choice but to spin out of the way in order not to be struck by Fëanaro's strike. Nelyo then ducked when Fëanaro swung his sword diagonally, and Maglor started when the blade narrowly missed Nelyo's head by centimeters. He knew neither of them would intentionally harm the other, and that they had enough expertise to keep from accidentally hurting each other, but it still made him nervous when he would watch them spar. There were so many moments filled with close calls that made Maglor feel edgy.

Nelyo spun on his knee, immediately tipping his sword back in time to catch another one of Fëanaro's attempt to hit his unprotected side. Fëanaro flicked his sword away from Nelyo's, their blades screeching. The elder flipped his hair back over his shoulder, taking a step back and lowering his blade, faintly smiling.

Nelyo backed down, planting his blade into the ground and leaning against it, breathing heavily.

"You did well." Fëanaro said, his tone neutral, though Maglor could see the pride shining in those blue eyes.

Nelyo shook his head. "I could have done better."

Fëanaro quirked an eyebrow, silently urging his son to explain.

"I am still weak on my left side." Nelyo clarified, shaking his left hand in the air. "I need to practice more with my left. If I am ever incapacitated and unable to use my right, strengthening my left will be beneficial to me. I would still be able to hold my ground and defend myself successfully, without any trouble."

Almost at once, the image of Maedhros popped into Maglor's mind and he darkly agreed with his brother.

"Good. The ability to identify and acknowledge any weakness you have is something that will help you to improve greatly." Fëanaro looked rather pleased, but the look vanished, only to be replaced by his usual, emotionless mask. Nelyo only dipped his chin in acknowledgement. It was then Fëanaro peered over his son's shoulder to find Curvo and Tyelko staring at them in awe with Turgon and Moryo watching with veiled amazement, and...

Fëanaro nearly started upon seeing Maglor there, a dark look stealing over his smooth features.

Sensing his Father's eyes on him, the dark look morphed into an unreadable one as Maglor evenly met his gaze, with no trace of emotion visible.

Fëanaro felt a pang of hurt flicker through him, only to be replaced by a dull ache in his chest. "It appears we have company." Was all he said, jerking his chin in their direction. Nelyo turned to find his brothers and Turgon standing behind him and smiled upon seeing them.

"Ah, Makalaurë..."

"Nelyo." Maglor returned, raising an eyebrow at his brother's disheveled appearance. Loose, red, strands of hair clung to Nelyo's face and neck and stuck up in odd directions and his tunic was drenched in sweat.

They must have been having an intensive training session.

"We did plan to spar...but based from your appearance, I don't know if that's a good idea." Maglor teasingly told him, flashing Nelyo a mischievous grin. He missed the look of complete surprise that flashed across Fëanaro's features when he heard Maglor's words. "You might be too tired and won't perform as well..."

Nelyo huffed, straightening his back and tugging his blade out from the ground. "Be careful now, Makalaurë." Nelyo brushed his words aside, returning the grin. "Wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself, now do we?"

Maglor smirked. "That confident are we, Nelyo? Are you sure you shouldn't be saying that to yourself?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Curvo and Tyelko shared a look upon hearing Maglor and Nelyo bantering back and forth. They most certainly didn't remember Makalaurë ever being that outspoken or outgoing. This was a completely different side of their brother they had never seen before.

"You heard me."

"I see." Nelyo hummed, twirling his blade in his hand. "I won't go easy."

"I wouldn't let you." Maglor went to stand a few feet in front of his brother, his deep blue cloak fluttering behind him. Nelyo shook his head.

"This Maedhros did more than train you in weaponry, it would seem." Nelyo commented, pleasantly surprised by the excitement he could see in Maglor's vivid blue eyes. His brother had become much stronger and had grown more confident...and yet, Nelyo couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at this difference. What had led his brother to change? What influenced the change? It couldn't have been all Maedhros's doing.

 _'Atto and Maedhros close friends. Brothers.'_ Elerondo's words from the day before rang in his mind, and Nelyo found himself studying Makalaurë closely. The way Makalaurë spoke of Maedhros...with such reverence, fondness, and pain...

Well, that chased away the sneaking suspicion he'd had growing in the back of his mind.

When Makalaurë had returned, neither Nelyo nor his brothers recognized him other than for his looks, but gradually, hints of the old Makalaurë were slowly making themselves known.

"He did teach me many things." Maglor evasively replied.

Before they could spar, Fëanaro turned sharply to look at Nelyo. "I will take my leave." He told the ner. "Once you are finished, be sure the equipment is returned to its proper place."

Nelyo curtly nodded. "Of course."

Maglor frowned, eyeing his Father. "You will not stay?"

Fëanaro drew his gaze over to Maglor, his lips pursed together and expression guarded. "I imagined you wouldn't want me here." Was all he said, a little coldly.

Outwardly, Maglor was unfazed by Fëanaro's sudden coldness, but it did ignite a spark of anger within him.

The two held one another's gazes tensely, and Maglor narrowed his eyes dangerously. He had been told by his brothers that Fëanaro had started to act a little odd. He had been quick to anger, more so than usual, was always brooding, and giving almost everyone the cold shoulder.

His brothers, with the exception of Caranthir, didn't know why he was acting this way. Maglor did. Their entire group knew.

This was something Maglor couldn't allow. He wouldn't allow Fëanaro to give in.

"You have made it quite clear that my presence sets you on edge and that you wish to have nothing to do with me." Fëanaro continued in a steely tone, maintaining eye contact with his second-born. Fëanaro scowled darkly, appearing rather threatening.

Maglor never faltered and made to speak when Fëanaro cut him off.

"There were many times that I had hoped we would be able to reconcile, that I would be able to learn what it was that drove you away from me, but I found that it wasn't to be. You still shun away from me. All of those times I was filled with false hope..." Some of the hurt Fëanaro had felt then seeped into his voice, and Maglor swallowed thickly, realizing just how much he had messed up.

 _I am a fool...What have I done?_

"I raised you, loved you, and cared for you...I suppose that amounts to nothing. I have no idea what it was I could have possibly done to you to turn you away from me, but I no longer care to find out. It is clear to me that you no longer wish for me to be around. Have you not noticed how I have been respecting your wish?"

Maglor had noticed, and it made everything worse, because his Father was wrong...

The other sons of Fëanaro and Turgon were watching them with bated breaths, shifting uncomfortably as they watched Maglor and Fëanaro basically glare at one another.

Maglor grit his teeth together as Fëanaro continued with his poisonous words, his anger rising. Anger directed at both himself and Fëanaro, and an angry Maglor was not a pretty one. Very few had ever witnessed an angered Maglor, but those who did would fearfully watch him rage, noting to themselves to never anger the minstrel.

His brothers had seen him once, after the burning of the Teleri ships and the first Kinslaying, and then Maedhros had to deal with a furious Maglor during their argument in Himring before he fled into the night to return to his Gap.

"Had I known that you and Nelyo were to spar, I would not have come here."

That hurt more than Maglor wanted to admit. He didn't show it, his face devoid of any emotion save for the fire blazing in his eyes.

Nelyo was caught between them, uneasily looking from Fëanaro to Maglor, wondering if he should step in or stay out. He hadn't expected for this to happen, and judging by the look on everyone else's faces, they hadn't either.

Although...

Nelyo frowned at the smile growing on Moryo's lips, and there was a glimmer in his eyes...One that spoke of satisfaction as he watched Makalaurë and Fëanaro face off.

Odd...

Nelyo looked back to their Father and Makalaurë. Was Moryo happy about this conflict? Or was there more to it than he could see?

The cold, blank, expression Fëanaro wore was no match for the dark one covering Makalaurë's features...

Makalaurë looked dangerous, and the Elven glow enveloping his body increased, anger flashing in his eyes.

"It is for that reason I am leaving." Fëanaro faintly snarled, spinning on his heel and making for the path hidden by the shadows of the trees, his shoulders tense and movements rigid with barely concealed anger. "With that said, I _kindly_ take my leave."

Fear shot through the minstrel and Maglor snapped, casting aside all sense of precaution and reason as he watched his Father walk away. He knew if Fëanaro were to walk away, he would have lost his Father for good. That was something Maglor would never be able to live with.

And it would be all his fault. He knew this.

Without even thinking, Maglor bit out, "Don't you _dare_ turn your back on me!"

Fëanaro stopped dead in his tracks.

Nelyo's eyes drifted shut, bowing his head, dreading what was sure to come. Caranthir, Tyelko, Curvo, and Turgon had all frozen in place, stunned and unable to believe what had just taken place in front of them. Everyone of them apprehensively waiting for what they knew was going to happen. Tyelko hid his face in his hands, shaking his head worriedly.

"Valar forbid..." Were the only muffled words Nelyo could hear Tyelko saying.

All was dead silent, including the animals of the forest. No one dared to break the silence, too afraid to.

Fëanaro turned his head slightly, his voice devastatingly calm when he spoke, "What was that?"

Maglor remained unmoved. "You understood me perfectly."

Fëanaro, with agonizing slowness, turned, though not completely, to face Maglor, a steely glint in his eyes.

"Kano!" Curvo hissed, silently pleading for his brother not to do something he was most definitely going to regret. Based off of the look Fëanaro was fixing Maglor with, it was already too late.

Maglor, however, also looked positively murderous, but it wasn't that that struck Curvo. It was the manner in which Maglor held himself in. He looked regal in the royal blue and silver silk clothes and cloak he wore, and his countenance was confident, with a challenging air about him. He looked like one who held authority and was battle-hardened, ready for a fight. One he was certain to get. Maglor knew this, and he was prepared.

There was also a sense of desperation and yearning Curvo caught onto that he knew Fëanaro couldn't see because he was blinded by anger and grief.

For Fëanaro, believing that Makalaurë had been dead had been hard enough, but to lose Makalaurë because his son was turning away from him was even worse.

Maglor, on the other hand, knew he was being reckless and that he was treading on thin ice, but he was purposefully venturing on dangerous grounds in order to reach out to Fëanaro.

Curvo knew he was the only one who could see this, but even he didn't agree with Maglor's methods. His brother was digging himself a deeper hole, one he was probably going to bury himself in if he wasn't careful.

Fëanaro glowered at Maglor, his scowl deepening. "You dare speak to me in such a way?" He demanded to know, his voice low and threatening.

"I do." Maglor evenly stated.

Nelyo was torn as he watched his Father and brother have a stare-down, each daring the other to back down. This was not supposed to happen...

Fëanaro's grip tightened on the hilt of his thin, and sharp, blade. Maglor caught the movement and sneered, something the brothers had never seen him do before.

"Go on. Raise your blade!" Maglor reached into his cloak and drew his own blade. The sharp sound of metal being drawn from its sheath rang through the air, and soon, a beautifully crafted blade unlike any the Elves had seen was being pointed at Fëanaro.

Fëanaro appeared a little taken aback, and Nelyo looked completely shocked. The other Elves' jaws dropped as they watched Maglor raise his blade against his Father, but Maglor could care less.

He had waited thousands of years for this moment, and now, here it was.

It was a dangerous move he was making, and one Maglor feared he was going to deeply regret for the rest of his life, but he couldn't turn back.

"Long have I waited for this moment." Maglor proclaimed, his blade completely still in the air. His Elven glow had brightened considerably, and no one could ignore the dangerous air that swirled about Maglor. His eyes had hardened, lips pursed together as he locked gazes with Fëanaro. "Longer than you could ever imagine. You want answers to your questions, but I cannot give them to you. Now you know how I feel. There are answers to questions that I have been seeking but could never find, and may never be able to. You wish to know why I am the way I am, why I act this way, why I am so different, and as much as I want to tell you, I can't. No matter how much I want to, I cannot risk it. I had wished you would understand, and it is my fault you are unable to. It is my fault this has happened, and it is my fault it has come to this. I never wanted this distance that lies between us, Atar, and if there is anyone to blame for it, it is me. I know this."

Maglor twisted his blade in his hand, falling into position as he faced Fëanaro. "And it isn't easy..." his voice trembled slightly as Maglor went on. "Finding my way back home, returning to my family...I can't pretend to be who I used to be, who you _want_ me to be." He looked at everyone when he said this, skipping over Turgon and Caranthir.

Tyelko, Nelyo, and Curvo looked a little stricken and guilty, while Fëanaro pursed his lips tightly together. On the outside, he appeared unaffected by what the minstrel had said, but inwardly, Fëanaro felt a little unsettled. The elder Elf watched Maglor closely, as if unsure of what he should do.

Should he give Maglor the fight he was clearly ready for?

As tempted as he was to see how skilled his son was and hurt by Maglor's shunning him, Fëanaro knew dueling against him would be dangerous. He was already seething with anger deep inside from recent events he'd kept from his family and Maglor also seemed upset...

If they were to have a duel, it would probably not end well.

"But I won't apologize." Maglor reached up to unclasp his cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground and stepped forward, spinning his sword expertly in his hand. "Are you ready?" He asked Fëanaro.

Without waiting for a response, Maglor launched his attack.

Nelyo leaped back when Maglor lunged forward and swung his blade to the left then swiped it back up diagonally. Fëanaro reacted almost immediately, bringing his sword down to meet Maglor's with a clang!

Maglor had already thought over the advantages and disadvantages he and Fëanaro had in the duel. He had over four thousands years of experience with a blade and knew his Father's fighting style well, however, Maglor hadn't practiced as often as he should have. He was still lethal with a blade, and could fell an entire group of orcs without trouble- something that occurred more often than people would think. Orcs had been gradually growing in size causing the minstrel to be concerned. Even Elrond had noticed and the Peredhil had been unsettled with the possibility of a new ruler over the Orcs arising.

Fëanaro, on the other hand, was a quick-thinker and a fast adapter. His instincts never failed him and Fëanaro could calculate his opponent's move before they even thought of it themselves.

Their blades met again, Maglor easing into the duel he had started. It had been a while since he had fought against someone he knew, or someone of his own kind. He'd missed his sparring sessions with Nelyo and Fëanaro, but this wasn't a spar. Nor a friendly duel.

Maglor gracefully ducked underneath one of Fëanaro's hits, whipping to the side and raising his blade in time to deflect another blow. Another difference between them was that Fëanaro preferred double-handed blades. Maglor was more comfortable with one-handed blades. Sometimes, he would even fight with twin knives. Fëanaro was also more direct, more forceful in his fighting while Maglor went with the flow, effortlessly meeting his Father's strikes blow-for-blow.

The minstrel could see Fëanaro's control of himself wavering and gave a faint smile. Yes, this was what he wanted. For Fëanaro to vent out all of his anger and pain in this one duel. He wanted Fëanaro to release everything he was keeping locked away inside of him, to let loose his frustration and irritation...to just let it all go.

Just to speed up the process and break down those frail walls guarding Fëanaro's emotions, Maglor purposefully provoked him.

He could tell it was working from the way Fëanaro was getting riled up.

The volcano was going to erupt soon.

Nelyo worriedly watched their duel from the sidelines, keeping himself a safe distance away but close enough to intervene if it grew worse. He didn't understand exactly what was taking place, but from the warning glare he'd been given by his brother, he knew he couldn't stop them now.

Makalaurë was up to something. He was doing this for a reason. Nelyo was going to trust his brother on this one, but he didn't know if that was a good idea.

Curvo and the others had all moved a little closer to the duel, watching in wonder as Makalaurë and Fëanaro dueled. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before. It looked more dangerous than when Nelyo and their Father would spar, and far more intense. Neither Fëanaro or Makalaurë were holding back.

"I never knew Makalaurë was capable of...of..." Tyelko started to say, staring at his brother and Father astonishment. Unable to find the word he was searching for, Tyelko fell back on just waving a hand in Makalaurë's direction in amazement.

"Neither did I." Curvo murmured in agreement, sharp eyes analyzing the minstrel. Something didn't make sense to him, however, and Nelyo knew exactly what didn't, for he had also caught onto it.

The surety in Makalaurë's eyes and the perfect strikes and attacks he executed told them that he must have received training for longer than ten years. The moves Makalaurë would make, even the most complex, were performed as though they were second-nature to him. But, when could he have possibly started training? How could he have hidden it from his family? Everyone knew Makalaurë never enjoyed sparring. It was one of the reasons he only allowed Nelyo and Fëanaro to train him in using a dagger for basic defense. He didn't want to learn the way of the sword, yet...this Maedhros managed to convince Makalaurë into learning how to wield a blade.

How?

This Maedhros had changed his brother so much. Makalaurë was different. It wasn't a bad different, but it was something Nelyo would need to get used to.

He continued to watch the duel anxiously. Black and blue moved in rhythm, with Fëanaro gaining the upper hand in some tense moments, then Makalaurë suddenly turning the tables and forcing Fëanaro to retreat.

Makalaurë backed away suddenly, smoothly gliding out of Fëanaro's reach and smiling darkly. Fëanaro's brow crinkled in confusion at his son's odd behavior, but didn't allow it to distract him.

The smile vanished as soon as it appeared, replaced by a neutral facade. "You are slower than what I remember." Makalaurë abruptly commented, pulling his long hair back and over his shoulder.

Fëanaro blinked.

Makalaurë carelessly dug the tip of his sword into the ground and leaned on it, regarding his Father with analytical, and pained, eyes.

"What?"

Malakalaurë narrowed his piercing blue orbs, which, Fëanaro found, were much darker than before. "You're holding back." He uttered lowly, almost in a growl. "Why are you holding back?" He demanded to know. "Are you afraid that you might injure me?" He didn't give Fëanaro any time to answer before plowing on. "You should not worry about hurting me. It is nearly impossible to."

Fëanaro's frown deepened at the implication behind his second-born's statement, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade as the anger he felt before flared back to life. He forced the anger down, knowing what Makalaurë was trying to do. He wouldn't give in.

Makalaurë watched him a few moments longer, lips pursed tightly together. Faster than what Fëanaro thought was possible, the sword was back in Makalaurë's hands and his son was lunging towards him. "Don't hold back!"

Fëanaro barely had time to move. He did manage to raise his own weapon to meet Makalaurë's, only to be stunned by the strength of his second-born. Makalaurë was much stronger than what he appeared!

Their blades remained stuck between them, both Fëanaro and Makalaurë attempting to use their strength to make the other falter.

Nelyo watched as the two exchanged words, talking loud enough for only the two of them to hear. He saw Fëanaro's expression darken as he bared his teeth in irritation. Makalaurë calmly watched him, unaffected by the glare his Father was fixing him with.

As much as Nelyo wanted to know what they were saying to each other, he wished Makalaurë wouldn't goad their Father so. It was already difficult enough dealing with his dark moods and frequent outbursts.

Without warning, Makalaurë forcefully shoved Fëanaro back. Fëanaro staggered, eyes widening marginally in shock.

His son fought like a fully-trained warrior, an expert even!

Makalaurë gave him no time to recover, slanting and swinging his blade in a vicious arc. Fëanaro bent back, feeling the rush of air brush against his face.

That...Had been a close call, Fëanaro thought to himself, the memory of the sword flying just centimeters in front of his face fresh in his mind. He scowled. Too close.

Very well...

The ner made up his mind. If his son didn't want him to hold back, then he wouldn't. Falling back into position, Fëanaro reigned in his anger. Little-by-little, the suffocating emotions welling up inside of Fëanaro gradually fell away until Fëanaro could feel nothing.

Makalaurë had better be prepared, for Fëanaro would show him no mercy. If this was what his second-born wanted, had asked for, then he would receive it.

Maglor was able to sense the change settling over his Father and, for a brief moment, inwardly celebrated his victory. It was working.

Then he worried.

His Father was most unpredictable when he was like this. He had no idea what to expect. The only time he had ever seen his Father fight was in battle or in the sparring sessions he often held with his other siblings. Maglor, himself, had never sparred against his Father. Well, he did a few times, until Fëanaro got the point that Maglor had wanted absolutely nothing to do with weaponry and only wanted to compose music.

Then, he reminded himself that he had fought in more battles than his family- in this time- had, so, he had more experience and was prepared enough to face his Father.

Maybe...

Maglor inwardly sighed.

Why did he get the feeling that this was going to be a disaster?

He really should have thought this through.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _ **That's it for Chapter 10! I hope it was okay. If there's anything I need to fix, please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as I can! Chapter 11 will be up soon, I promise!**_

 _ **I also wanted to say thank-you to the sweet reviews I've gotten! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story!**_

 ** _~ Juliette Morbu_**


	12. Shocking Revelation

_**As promised in the chapter before, here is the Part I of the double update I said I would put up! I had thought I'd published it yesterday, which was my original intention, but my computer decided it was going to shut down and take hours to update. Honestly! I'm so excited that I'm getting a new one for Christmas!  
Just a tiny note, Elrond's eyes are supposed to be grey! I kept putting in brown because of the movies...Sorry for any confusion!  
Thank-you guys so much for the lovely reviews! They all make my day when I see them! I'm thrilled you guys are enjoying the story! **_

_**Anywho, just jump right on in and read! Review if you'd like! Those are always welcome ;)**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Maglor froze, his bloodied sword held tightly in his grasp.

What...?

He looked to his blade then to the crumpled form of Fëanaro on the ground before him in confusion and growing horror.

No...

Oh Valar...

Panic and terror welled up inside of him as Maglor stared, unable to bring himself to move. He could barely hear the sound of his brothers and Turgon shouting.

His vision suddenly blurred.

His mind swam as millions of thoughts raced through it, overwhelming him.

How could this have happened?

The sword slipped from his stiff fingers, falling onto the ground, forgotten. He hardly registered the pain flaring in his right side.

"Kano!"

Maglor blinked multiple times, slowly raising his eyes to find Turgon standing in front of him, hands firmly grasping his shoulders, brows drawn together in concern and worry.

Maglor tried to speak, but nothing would come out. He couldn't even make a sound, only grimacing as fiery pain shot up his side.

"Kano?" Turgon gently shook him, but Maglor paid him no mind, looking down to find he had been pressing a hand against his side. Removing it, Maglor was stunned to see he had been hit. His hand was coated with blood, and his deep blue tunic was stained red.

He'd been hit.

Turgon followed his gaze to see the wound Maglor had sustained. His eyes widened at the amount of blood his cousin was losing and started rapidly speaking to Maglor, trying to keep him focused.

Maglor didn't listen. He couldn't understand him.

He only stared at Turgon, not quite understanding what the fuss was about. He had gotten worse wounds before and survived just fine, it was his Father they should worry about.

His Father...

Peering over Turgon's shoulder, Maglor could see Nelyo leaning over the unconscious ner, checking whatever wounds he had received from the fierce duel.

Dark spots dotted his vision and the last thing Maglor saw was Nelyo commanding his brothers to do something before all went dark.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Fëanaro stared up at the white ceiling above him unblinkingly.

This was new...

He'd never been down to the Healing Halls- for himself- since he was an Elfling. Well, to be honest, he hadn't ever been to the Healing Halls since he and Nolofinwë had gotten into a rather...intense argument.

He couldn't even recall what they had been arguing about, but he did remember when Finwë had asked them why they were there, both Nolofinwë and Fëanaro lied and claimed the two had slipped and fallen down a rather steep hill. Actually, Nolofinwë had said Fëanaro had tripped and he had been trying to help Fëanaro when he also slipped and fell.

Even though Fëanaro didn't appreciate Nolofinwë saying _he_ had been the clumsy one, he went along with the lie. After all, it was the only one their Father would probably believe. The world would've come to an end if Nolofinwë had been the one to trip and Fëanaro had been _kind_ enough to keep him from falling.

Finwë, ever so blind, had bought the lie.

Oh, Finwë knew Fëanaro didn't like his half-brother and that his two sons were constantly at one another's throats, but he didn't know that sometimes, their arguments and fights could come to blows. At least, when they were younger, they had. Now, they only argued.

But, this time, Fëanaro wasn't in the Halls of Healing because he and Nolofinwë had a little spat. He had been put there by his second-born.

The door to the healing room opened and Fëanaro groggily turned his head to see his first-born step into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Nelyo heaved a sigh and ran a hand down his face, appearing worn and drained.

Fëanaro coughed lightly, attracting Nelyo's attention. When Nelyo saw that he was awake, he visibly brightened.

"Atto!" He strode over to the bedside, relief dancing in his eyes. "You're awake!"

"Clearly." Fëanaro deadpanned, gingerly crossing his fingers over his chest. He definitely was not happy about being in the Halls of Healing.

Nelyo grinned weakly. "You were out for quite some time."

Fëanaro looked at him. "How long?"

"It was near dusk when we brought you in. It is dawn now." Nelyo answered. "Nalara said when you'd fallen, you had hit your head and that was what knocked you out."

Fëanaro nodded, immediately regretting doing so when his vision swam. Closing his eyes when the world started to tilt in odd angles, Fëanaro chuckled.

Nelyo gave him an odd, and wary, look.

"I cannot believe it. Sent to the Halls of Healing because of my little Songbird." His eyes fluttered open, his lips quirking a little. "Never expected this to happen." He'd be lying if he didn't say he was proud of his second-born, but also a little concerned. Something just didn't add up to Fëanaro. In fact, _many_ things didn't make sense to him. And those things all revolved around Makalaurë.

Nelyo huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Nor did we. It happened so suddenly..."

"What did happen? I can't...quite remember." Fëanaro inquired, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall his last memory. "I remember Kano saying something to me..."

"I don't know what he said to you...but you started to duel again. I..." Nelyo bowed his head guiltily. "I forgot to put the dummy away..."

"The one you broke when we were training?"

Nelyo sharply nodded. "The one I broke. I didn't put it aside. You tripped over it. Kano didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. He had already swung and you were wounded just before you fell." The tall ner gestured to the bandages peeking out from under the silky white shirt Fëanaro wore. "When you fell, you hit your head. We brought you here immediately afterwards."

Fëanaro bit his lower lip. "How embarrassing." Knocked out because he tripped and struck his head on a rock. He didn't truly care that Makalaurë had wounded him, knowing it wasn't Makalaurë's fault. "And...what of Kano?" He inquired, a little hesitantly.

Nelyo averted his gaze, worry brewing in his dark orbs. Fëanaro grew concerned.

"Nelyo?"

"He...Kano," Nelyo began, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve, "He didn't escape unscathed. In fact, he fell unconscious a little after you did."

"What?" Fëanaro whipped his head in Nelyo's direction.

Nelyo nodded, an uncertain look crossing his features. "He panicked? I don't know if that is the correct word, but he was also wounded. You managed to land a strike on him at some point during the duel and we didn't notice until Kano collapsed."

"How is he?" Fëanaro demanded to know. Even though he and Kano weren't exactly getting along as well as he would have liked, Fëanaro was still overly concerned about his son. He still yearned to have his little Songbird back. All of those words he had said to him before the duel...What he had said during the duel... Fëanaro felt horrid. He hadn't meant anything he had spoken. The words he had said were all spoken because of how stressed and angered Fëanaro had been. That wasn't even an excuse. He wondered how wounded Makalaurë had felt by his words. Not only that, but he had also harmed his son, something Fëanaro had internally sworn he wouldn't do just before the duel.

The wounded ner watched as his son thought over how he would answer his question, causing Fëanaro's concern to rise.

"He...we don't know." Nelyo sighed, shoulders dropping.

"You don't know?" Fëanaro repeated, silently asking his son to explain.

"We brought Kano here along with you but...Nalara informed me that he escaped earlier."

"He _escaped_?"Incredulous, all Fëanaro could do was stare at his first-born. Makalaurë had escaped?

"Aye. He didn't take too well to the fact that he had injured you. He was...not himself." Nelyo carefully answered, thinking back to when he had visited Makalaurë earlier that night. Before he had escaped, according to Nalara. Makalaurë had looked so haunted...so lost and in pain. When Nelyo had tried speaking to him, Makalaurë wouldn't say anything. He only stared off into the distance, eyes far away.

He was remembering, Nelyo knew. He was remembering something. Something that had happened during the ten years he was gone. Whatever it was he was remembering, it couldn't have been pleasant.

The only time Makalaurë had spoken was when he had asked about their Father's condition.

When Nelyo had told him that Fëanaro had yet to wake up, Makalaurë had fallen back into himself and never answered Nelyo afterwards. Nelyo had left him not too long after that to check on Fëanaro. When he returned, he was greeted by a worried Nalara searching for his brother.

Nelyo and his other brothers had searched everywhere for Makalaurë, but couldn't find him anywhere.

He had most likely hidden himself away in order to deal with his guilt alone.

Fëanaro appeared disheartened by this. "He's so far away..." The ner murmured quietly, voice reflecting the pain he felt. Nelyo pretended not to have heard him until his Father addressed him. "Find him, Nelyo...He shouldn't be alone, and...bring him here. I want to see him."

"I will try."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

And try Nelyo did. He had even roped his brothers, cousins, Grandfather, and Nerdanel into trying to find where Makalaurë had vanished to, but to no avail. Makalaurë most certainly did not want to be found. It worried the family.

Neither of them knew that, after spending centuries in the wilderness, Makalaurë had become an expert in making himself invisible when he wanted to. He could vanish in the blink of an eye.

Coincidentally, Nolofinwë was also nowhere to be found.

Nelyo was close to giving up after another two hours of searching when a thought struck his mind.

Elerondo.

The tall ner suddenly stopped in the middle of the hall, blinking multiple times. Why had he suddenly thought of Elerondo? What could the Elfling possibly do that would help them in finding Makalaurë?

Yet...Nelyo couldn't help but think Elerondo would be able to aid them in locating their missing brother.

It was a strange feeling. There was something Nelyo felt...Something that drew him to the Elfling. He didn't know what it was, but ever since he had met the little one, Nelyo had felt a connection spark between them, as if a bond had formed between the two of them. After getting to know the Elfling a bit more, Nelyo suddenly felt that Elerondo had filled up a part of him that he hadn't realized he had been missing.

He thought he had been treating Elerondo like a little brother, but now that he thought about it...

It didn't fit. Since meeting Elerondo, the Elfling had sought him out, chatted animatedly with him, sat with him in silence, and even had Nelyo read him some books written in Quenya since he couldn't quite understand the words. Just the other night, Nelyo had allowed the Elfling to crawl into his lap and read a children's book aloud to him. When night would fall, Nelyo would peek into the Elfling's room to see if he was resting well.

It was odd...

He felt almost like...

No. Nelyo shook his head. That was an absurd thought. He had only just met the Elfling and yet...

The red-head sighed. Everything was so confusing. He didn't know what to think or believe anymore. Everything had changed, and Nelyo couldn't help but feel that something was coming. Something they needed to be prepared for.

But what was it?

He needed to find out.

And he was going to, one way, or another.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Night fell, and Fëanaro found himself dozing off in his room in the Halls of Healing. It had been a long, and tiresome day. He had been doing a lot of thinking ever since Nalara had told him he would be bedridden for another day before he would be set free from his prison.

He'd thought about his family, about his life, his home, their future, and most of all, his second-born.

Makalaurë.

His little Songbird.

His son had suffered greatly, Fëanaro could see it in his eyes, the overwhelming pain, the weariness, and yet, a fire so bright still flared within those dark blue orbs. Makalaurë had changed so much in the last decade Fëanaro almost felt that he no longer knew his son. Whatever his son had been through, it had affected him greatly. He was stronger, but it wasn't his strength Fëanaro had noted. It was his demeanor. The way he had carried himself throughout their duel. He had fought better than anyone Fëanaro had ever dueled against, excluding Nelyo, Nolofinwë, and his Father. He had challenged Fëanaro, and Fëanaro had almost lost the duel.

What had shocked Fëanaro the most, was the way his son had fought. Makalaurë had fought like a seasoned warrior, and he had held himself like one who held authority. There was an air of superiority that had enveloped Makalaurë when he dueled against Fëanaro, even though Makalaurë probably hadn't noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor. He was calm, focused, and controlled. He almost looked as if he wasn't even trying to fight. Everything he did, all of the moves he made, were executed smoothly, as if they were second nature to him.

That was what struck Fëanaro.

It told him that his son had been somewhere where he had to learn to fight in order to survive.

But where could he possible have gone? Valinor was a safe land. There was no trouble whatsoever in the Blessed Realm.

Unless...

A cold feeling settled over Fëanaro, and his stomach churned.

Unless, his son had been taken away from Valinor and to a different land.

A more dangerous place.

How, then, had Makalaurë been able to return? How had he been taken away? Had he escaped? What had happened to him?

So many questions Fëanaro wanted to ask him, but was afraid to. He didn't want to chase his son away...

As if that could happen, Fëanaro darkly thought to himself, greatly saddened. His son had already turned his back on him, but Fëanaro didn't want to cut him off completely. He treasured every moment he could be with Makalaurë, and his spirit was always uplifted whenever Makalaurë would speak with him. As much as he wished they could speak more, Fëanaro was more than happy to listen to whatever Makalaurë had to say, even if it was just a couple sentences.

Oh, if only he knew what he could do to bridge the gap between them.

Exhaling deeply, Fëanaro closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. Sleep had been eluding him for the past many hours, and Fëanaro was growing restless. He couldn't stand it.

Every time he tried to sleep, thoughts of Makalaurë would pop into his mind and he would go back to thinking about his Songbird. Mostly, Fëanaro was worried for him. Makalaurë had still not been found. He definitely did not want to be. Fëanaro had ordered Nelyo to break off the search, wanting to respect his Songbird's wish for privacy, and told him to get some sleep. Nelyo most certainly needed it.

His son had been stressing greatly the past few days and it was draining him mentally as well as physically. It took a lot of convincing, but Nelyo finally gave in and left to retire for the night. Fëanaro was sure that once Nelyo's head hit his pillow, he would be out.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door quietly opening, and Fëanaro quickly evened out his breathing to appear as if he were sleeping. It was most likely Nalara coming to make sure he was getting the rest he needed, and Fëanaro most certainly did not want to be on the receiving end of Nalara's lecture if she were to discover he was still awake. That nis had a sharp tongue and knew how to make anyone feel childish when they tried to argue with her. Normally, this would grate on Fëanaro's nerves, being told off by another Elf, but Nalara had become a close friend, no, a new member of their family. She had become an aunt to his sons and cared for them greatly, and was a good friend to Fëanaro. He could always trust Nalara to help them. She had often been the one Fëanaro and Nerdanel would have watch over their children when they would leave to visit Finwë in Tirion, and Nalara made sure their children were well-taken care of.

Quiet footsteps, so soft Fëanaro could barely hear them, sounded as whoever had entered, shut the door and slowly approached his bedside.

Fëanaro grew confused.

Whoever was there was not Nalara.

Was it Nelyo? Fëanaro exasperatedly wondered. It had better not be or Fëanaro would chew him out for not resting as he should be. Honestly, Nelyo always had to make sure everyone but himself was well taken care of and would often disobey his elders to ensure his brothers and family were doing fine. Fëanaro would not be surprised if Nelyo had come to check on him to make sure he was alright.

A soft, musical sigh filled the room and Fëanaro was stunned.

It couldn't be...

"Atar..."

That voice...So smooth and melodious, whispered. It was hardly a breath of air, but Fëanaro heard it. He had to fight the urge to snap his eyes open, grab the ner, and demand where his accursed son had been and if he was well. He knew if he were to alert the newcomer that he was awake, he would most likely make like a rabbit and bolt.

"I'm so sorry..."

Once again, Fëanaro had to quell the urge to sit up and comfort his son, to let him know everything was fine. He sounded so brokenhearted.

"I didn't...I didn't mean for this to happen. I should have seen it. I should have been able to stop myself..." Makalaurë's voice trembled. "But, by the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. I didn't react in time..." A gentle hand grasped his firmly.

Fëanaro almost couldn't believe it.

"I've been thinking...After the incident...It brought so many memories back. I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could tell you the truth. I don't hate you, Atto. I truly don't."

Fëanaro's breath caught.

Atto...

He'd called him Atto for the first time in ages! It wasn't the formal 'Atar' as Makalaurë would often address him, painfully reminding Fëanaro of how distant their relationship as Father and Son had become, it was 'Atto.'

"It is just...difficult. You probably wouldn't understand." Makalaurë whispered. "Not now, at least." He sighed morosely. "But it will be different now. I have had plenty of time to think over everything..." He paused briefly. "Will you forgive me, Atto? For turning away from you? For...wounding you?" He tightened his hold on Fëanaro's hand. "I was wrong. So wrong, and I see that now. If only I could have seen it before, it would never have come to this." He muttered mostly to himself. "I only hope you will not turn me away...I will not lie and say the words we exchanged during the duel did not hurt me...I am sure my words wounded you as yours did me."

Fëanaro's gut twisted, a twinge of guilt flashing through him along with hope.

Inhaling deeply, Makalaurë released Fëanaro's hand and stepped back. "I will return tomorrow, then...Surely, you will be awake by then, and perhaps, we will be able to speak."

Just when Fëanaro went to let Makalaurë know that he was awake, another voice quietly spoke up.

"He be okay?"

Surprise registered in Fëanaro when he heard Elerondo's voice. What was the Elfling doing here? Was he with Makalaurë?

He heard Makalaurë turn to face the Elfling, a smile in his voice as he replied, "Yes, Elerondo. He will be well."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"You upset..." The Elfling responded, sounding genuinely upset as well.

Makalaurë lightly chuckled. "I am fine. I just...need more time, I suppose."

"Thinking of home?"

"Perhaps."

"It better here..."

"Yes, yes it is." Makalaurë agreed.

Wait...Had Elerondo come from wherever Makalaurë had been, Fëanaro wondered. How was that possible? Elerondo was Nalara's nephew. He had come from the East coast of Aman, according to Moryo...

Unless...his sons were lying.

Now that he thought about it, Elerondo looked nothing like Nalara. Of course, Fëanaro knew Elerondo, being the son of Nalara's sister and brother-in-law, would probably not strongly resemble Nalara, but surely he would have some of the same features as his aunt.

But he had none.

Not only that, but the Elfling had grey eyes...

And dark brown, nearly black, hair.

The more he thought about it, the more suspicious Fëanaro became.

"But I miss Maedhros...and El." Elerondo's voice wobbled.

"Oh, Yonya..." Makalaurë soothingly murmured, affection lacing his tone.

This time, Fëanaro's eyes did snap open as shock filled his entire being.

 ** _Yonya?!_**

He whipped his head in the direction of Makalaurë and the Elfling. He could see Makalaurë kneeling beside him, pulling Elerondo into his arms and rocking back and forth in order to comfort him.

Elerondo's small shoulders shook slightly, but there was no sound made that told Fëanaro he was crying.

After a short moment, Elerondo pulled away in order to look up at Makalaurë, his grey eyes shimmering as he reached up and placed his small hands on the minstrel's cheeks.

"You miss them too, Atto?" Elerondo asked, recognizing the signs of sadness the minstrel was showing.

Now Fëanaro knew he wasn't imagining things. Makalaurë had truly called the Elfling 'Yonya' and the Elfling, in turn, had called his second-born 'Atto.'

This...was more than just a shocking revelation to Fëanaro.

"I do, my little one...So very much."

This was all too much for Fëanaro. He needed to know he wasn't dreaming this.

Elerondo somberly nodded, lowering his head as an expression of extreme, heart-felt, sadness graced his youthful features. It tore at both Fëanaro and Makalaurë's hearts to see.

A moment passed as Makalaurë soothingly ran his fingers through Elerondo's hair, respecting the Elfling's need for silence.

Elerondo broke the silence not too long afterwards. "But...We see them again, right?" He asked, hopefully staring up at Makalaurë with earnest, grey eyes.

Makalaurë gave him a weak, uncertain smile.

"Perhaps one day we will..." He answered, not wanting to get the Elfling's hopes up. Fëanaro could immediately see the shift in Makalaurë's mood when he answered Elerondo. He clearly didn't know if they would see this 'Maedhros' or Elerondo's twin again. It made Fëanaro wonder...

Ever so slowly, so as to not alert them to the fact that he had been awake the entire time, Fëanaro raised himself into a sitting position, staring at the two incredulously.

It was at that moment Elerondo raised his head and his grey orbs clashed with Fëanaro's blue ones. Elerondo blinked, small lips parting in a small 'O' shape. It wasn't the 'Oh, you're awake,' kind of 'O' either. It was the 'Oh, he knows,' kind of 'O.'

"Atto..."

So... Fëanaro vaguely thought to himself.

He hadn't been going crazy.

"Yes, Yonya?"

Oh Valar...

Fëanaro could feel himself growing faint once more, only this time, it wasn't because of the accursed concussion.

Elerondo raised his arm, pointing in Fëanaro's direction.

"He awake."

The reaction was instantaneous.

Makalaurë stood and whipped around so fast Fëanaro distantly wondered how he didn't topple over from being unbalanced. Wide blue eyes locked with Fëanaro's, and if possible, Makalaurë's eyes grew a little wider.

"A..." His mouth opened and closed as Makalaurë tried to think of what to say.

Fëanaro beat him to it.

"Yonya..?" It was only one word, but it was accompanied by several different question; and, it was the only question Fëanaro could bring himself to voice aloud. Everything else got stuck in his throat.

Makalaurë couldn't have gotten any closer to resembling a fish out of water.

It appeared he was also at a loss for words.

"I...Erm..." His eyes darted back and forth as Makalaurë thought about what he wanted to say- of what he could say.

" _Yonya!?_ " Fëanaro repeated, shock evident in his voice.

Makalaurë's eyes drifted shut, his lips thinning. The minstrel pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply.

"This...was not how I wanted you to find out."

Fëanaro could only stare, mouth agape.

Seconds ticked by with Fëanaro trying to wrap his mind around what he had learned. When he finally managed to, Fëanaro slowly recollected himself, sternly eyeing the minstrel.

"We have a LOT to talk about."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

The next day found Fëanaro glaring at the wall across from him, arms crossed over his chest. His wife, five of his sons, Nolofinwë and Findekano, and Finwë were seated about the room, keeping themselves occupied while Fëanaro waited. Thankfully, since the room was big, they weren't too crowded.

Nerdanel continually shot him concerned looks, wondering what could have made Fëanaro so...frustrated, but Fëanaro was NOT in the mood to speak or even socialize.

Everyone seemed to have caught onto this and remained as quiet as possible.

Almost shyly, Nerdanel reached over and covered his hand with her own, causing Fëanaro to meet her worried gaze. His wife looked imploringly at him, worry creasing her brow.

"Fëanaro..." She quietly said, "What ails you, love?"

Fëanaro looked away to glower at the wall once more.

Nerdanel waited patiently for a little before silently sighing. She wished to know what was bothering Fëanaro so, but he hadn't said a word ever since they'd arrived that morning.

Every once in a while, Fëanaro's gaze would shift over to the door, as if he were expecting for someone to come. No one knew who he was expecting, and he wouldn't say.

No one came through the door for the remainder of that day, and the family gradually left the room until it was only Fëanaro. The ner sighed and leaned back against his pillows. He needed answers, but Makalaurë was not willing to give them to him... He proved that last night.

But he would find out.

Oh, he most certainly would.

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

The door to the Family room flew open and Nelyo entered, forcefully tugging an irked ner beside him. Finwë, who had been doing a little reading in the peaceful room, snapped eyes snapped over in their direction and straightened upon seeing his unhappy grandson.

"Would you _please_!" Nelyo exasperatedly grumbled, firmly yanking the reluctant younger ner further into the room.

The darker-haired ner scowled, glaring daggers at the red-head, making Finwë stare at them. He had never seen his grandsons so upset with one another before. The two had always had a rather close bond and were usually so peaceful.

"Release me." Came the demand.

"No." Was the curt response.

"Nelyo!"

" _Enough_ , Kano!" Nelyo sharply cut his brother off, and even Finwë flinched back at the tone. It was the same one he would use to rebuke his sons or grandsons for whenever they would cross the line. Nelyo had certainly mastered it, having had six younger brothers, three of whom often needed to be put back in line.

Normally, Makalaurë would've immediately silenced and withdrawn into himself, but this time, Makalaurë's eyes blazed rebelliously and the ner growled.

"If you do not release me at once-"

"What will you do?" Nelyo hissed back.

Finwë watched the two glare at one another, Makalaurë clenching his fists and baring his teeth while Nelyo merely crossed his arms and stare down at his brother, unaffected.

"Turn tail and flee?"

"I-" Makalaurë began, voice low and threatening as his expression darkened.

"Will remain here."

"I will do as I please!" Makalaurë bit out, starting to turn around so he could leave.

"Kano!" Nelyo reached out and grasped hold of one of Makalaurë's braids in order to keep him from leaving. This forced Makalaurë to lean back at an awkward angle, grimacing. The minstrel curled his fingers around his braid and tugged, trying to release it from Nelyo's hold, but Nelyo held onto it tightly.

"Would you stop treating me like a child!" Makalaurë exclaimed, frustratingly.

Nelyo immediately snapped back, "Quit acting like one and I may treat you as the adult you are."

Clearly...The two of them had been at this for a while.

Makalaurë responded with a murderous glare. "You infuriating-" He started to rage, but Nelyo shot him an unimpressed glance.

"Yes, yes, I know what it is you think of me, Kano. I have listened to every one of your insults on the way here."

Makalaurë bit back whatever retort he'd had to say, wisely choosing to remain silent. His eyes, however, conveyed the message he wanted to say.

Nelyo rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. "You are worse than Ambarto and Pityo when they have a fit! By Varda, I could go as far as to say you are far worse than even Moryo when he becomes enraged!"

"You have no idea..." Makalaurë muttered in reply, though Finwë had the feeling he hadn't meant to say that aloud. The minstrel turned his head away and incidentally met his curious, and concerned, gaze.

He froze, just now realizing that the two of them weren't alone.

"Andatar!" Makalaurë coughed, embarrassed. Nelyo started, glancing over his shoulder to find that their Grandfather was indeed there. The two awkwardly stood there, while Finwë merely raised an eyebrow in question.

Slowly, Nelyo and Makalaurë straightened, both avoiding their Grandfather's gaze while trying to appear as though nothing was wrong.

Finwë hid a smirk as Makalaurë's braid slipped from Nelyo's grasp, and Makalaurë quickly fixed it.

"Is there a problem here, boys?"

"No, whatever made you think that?" Came the automatic, and far-too-innocent, response from the both of them.

Finwë rolled his eyes.

"Oh please, don't think that you can fool me. I had your Father and Nolofinwë as my sons." He pointedly reminded Makalaurë and Nelyo, disguising the the smile growing on his lips when his two grandsons glanced at one another. "I _know_ when there is something up." He sat up in his chair, setting the book onto the table nearby and folding his hands in his lap. "Now, tell me, what seems to be the matter?" He gestured for the two to sit on the couch across from him.

Both Makalaurë and Nelyo obeyed, seating themselves down several inches from one another. Finwë bit back a laugh when his grandsons glared at one another. It made him wonder what the two could have possibly been arguing about.

Makalaurë said nothing, staring at the wall over Finwë's shoulder. Nelyo, seeing that his brother wasn't going to answer, answered for them.

"Atto wanted to speak with Makalaurë, but Makalaurë is being childish-"

Here, Makalaurë clenched his jaw, but other than that, he was silent.

"And would prefer to hide himself away from the world-"

"As if you wouldn't have done the same." Makalaurë muttered, tapping his arm with his hand impatiently.

"No." Nelyo sharply replied. "I wouldn't have. I would have checked to make sure he was doing well and then locked myself away so I could deal with my guilt."

"You know, Nelyo, I'm not you."

"Oh, please. You know what I meant."

The two shot back and forth and the entire argument started back up again while Finwë casually reclined back into his seat and waited. At least, they weren't as bad as when Fëanaro and Nolofinwë were younger.

Those two had always tried his patience since it usually took hours for the two to settle down, but as they grew, Finwë gave up trying to get them to calm down and left them to settle it out themselves.

Nelyo then growled and pinched the bridge of his nose. His brother was so difficult!

Makalaurë said something Finwë didn't quite catch, but it made Nelyo react.

"Grow a spine, Makalaurë!"

Makalaurë smirked. "You're humorous."

Nelyo paused, the retort he had prepared immediately forgotten.

Finwë snorted, having understood what Makalaurë had just done while Nelyo slowly turned to face his brother, blinking slowly several times.

"You did not..."

Makalaurë grinned. Nelyo's shoulders shook a little before he barked out a laugh, shaking his head. Musical laughter filled the air soon after, and it wasn't long before Finwë joined them, having found the small joke rather funny. And just like that, the tense atmosphere ebbed away into a more lighthearted one.

Once the laughter died down, the three sat in companionable silence, Makalaurë and Nelyo sitting a little closer to one another. Finwë marveled at how easily the two had wrapped up their dispute, wishing Fëanaro and Nolofinwë could be the same.

"So, what exactly started this little argument?" Finwë inquired. Makalaurë and Nelyo blinked, looking to one another then back at Finwë.

"You know what," Makalaurë slowly started, placing his hands against his knees and leaning forward slightly, "I can't even remember."

"Neither can I..." Nelyo murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He just shrugged and glanced out of the window. "Oh, Valar, I need to check on the twins. I promised I would read them a story." He, Makalaurë, and Finwë all stood.

"Well, I suppose I should also retire for the night." Finwë said mostly to himself, fixing his robes and smoothing out any wrinkles. "You as well, Makalaurë. It has been a rather exciting day for you."

Makalaurë gave him a pained smile. "I do not know if I will be able to rest tonight." He sighed softly. He most certainly did not want to go to sleep, for he knew his dreams would be filled with memories of his time in Middle-Earth

Finwë frowned, catching sight of the dark circles that were beginning to make themselves known underneath Makalaurë's eyes. Nelyo also looked concerned, but before he could do anything, Finwë had inclined his head towards the door, silently telling Nelyo to check on the twins so he could speak with Makalaurë alone.

Nelyo understood the message and turned to embrace his younger brother. "Goodnight, Kano. I will see you in the morning." He leaned closer so he could whisper, "If you are having difficulty sleeping, wake me."

Makalaurë graced him with a thankful smile as he reciprocated the embrace. "I will, thank-you."

But Makalaurë wasn't sure if he could burden his brother by making him lose a few hours of sleep. The first night Makalaurë had had a nightmare a little after he'd returned, Nelyo had woken him and the two had gone to walk outside. Because they had done that, and Makalaurë was used to only sleeping when he truly felt fatigued, the minstrel was completely awake. Nelyo had been kind enough to stay awake with him for the remainder of the night, and the two decided to try making some cookies while sharing stories of what they had done in the past ten years. Makalaurë told Nelyo stories of twins that he knew, but didn't share their names. He called them the 'Twin Terrors,' for that was exactly what Elladan and Elrohir were. However, during the short time Makalaurë had been in Imladris, the twins had become attached to him and Makalaurë had bonded with the two. They had reminded him greatly of Elrond and Elros when they were younger.

Nelyo had, in turn, shared stories of what devious little pranks Ambarto and Pityo had pulled on their victims- which was usually the entire family- and how they could come up to creative solutions to any problems they faced.

Makalaurë had paid close attention to everything, laughing every so often at the stories Nelyo told him.

It had happened a couple of times, and each time, Nelyo always stayed with him and the two would find something to keep themselves occupied.

Nelyo, satisfied with Makalaurë's response, turned and bid Finwë goodnight. Once he left, Finwë reached out and grasped Makalaurë's shoulder. When his grandson looked up at him, Finwë gently steered him in the direction of the door.

"Walk with me, Kano." Finwë said, and Makalaurë followed, warily eyeing his Grandfather. What did Finwë want with him?

"Andatar?" Makalaurë finally called to him, when they left the Family Room.

"Tell me, Makalaurë, what is it that troubles you so?" Finwë calmly inquired, never once looking to his grandson. Makalaur's brow furrowed.

"What troubles me..?"

"Makalaurë."

Makalaurë shrunk back a bit. His Grandfather had used _that_ tone on him. The one that brooked no argument, and the look Finwë was giving him...

If there was anyone who could make him feel like a child again, it was Finwë. Even though he was far older than his Grandfather-

Wait...

He blinked.

That...was odd to think about. He was far older than everyone in his family...Possibly the oldest in the entire land.

He didn't even realize he had stopped walking when that realization had struck him. It made him feel a little strange. It wasn't until Finwë had started to shake his shoulder that Makalaurë realized he had zoned out.

"Andatar?"

Finwë was gazing down at him in concern. "Is everything well, Kano?" He asked him.

Makalaurë gave a one arm shrug, still feeling a little odd. "Everything is fine, Andatar." He replied.

Finwë didn't believe him, but he didn't press. Instead, once they reached Makalaurë's room, Finwë rested his hands on Makalaurë's shoulders, effectively catching his attention.

"Makalaurë, I know something troubles you. We all do. You need to talk to someone, Makalaurë. It does not have to be me, but I can assure you that if you were to speak with someone, _anyone_ , it would lighten the burden you carry on your shoulders." His Grandfather advised. "Promise me that you will do so." He looked imploringly at his grandson. He didn't want his grandson to suffer so much alone, and he hoped Makalaurë would take his advise.

Makalaurë was silent for a moment, seemingly deep in thought, as if contemplating something, then he nodded. "I will, Andatar. Thank-you."

Finwë smiled, relieved, and pulled his grandson into a hug. "I am glad. We are all here for you, Kano. Never forget that."

"How could I?" Makalaurë laughed, voice muffled. "With everyone constantly reminding me that I am not alone, it is a little difficult to forget."

"Good."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Later that night, Maglor was seated outside on one of the stone benches Curvo had carved from a rather large rock. Leaning back, Maglor gazed up into the night sky, admiring it's beauty.

It was so peaceful here...

He frowned bitterly. Too bad that peace wasn't going to last much longer. It wouldn't be long before trouble would begin stirring. A few months at least. He worried a little. His family was so stubborn and thick-headed.

Sooner or later, they would be exiled to Formenos...

The group had agreed to allow that to happen. It needed to.

Maglor bit his lip. He and the group needed to come up with something soon. They needed a plan. What would they do once he left for Formenos with Finwë? Maglor certainly could not face a Vala on his own. Especially if that Vala was Melkor.

Turgon had told Maglor that he would keep in touch with him, keep him updated on everything that was happening, but that wouldn't do much to help them. Thuringwethil had suggested that she be the messenger, for she could travel from Tirion to Formenos with ease, that-a-way, they would be able to keep planning on what to do in the future. Sending missives would be too risky. Anyone could get them and read them. Maglor certainly did not want that happening, for he knew, if he were to receive a missive from Turgon, his family would start questioning him about them. Fëanaro would most likely not be please...

Yes, Thuringwethil's idea was the best they had for now.

During the short period Thuringwethil had been with them, she and Aredhel had become like friends, and it was for that reason Thuringwethil wished to remain in Tirion. The group allowed it. Aredhel had most certainly been excited, and it never was surprising to find the two chattering away about something or another. Thuringwethil was especially relieved that she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't and Aredhel was pleased to have someone to talk to.

Elerondo, Maglor smiled, kept Caranthir on his toes. Even though Caranthir would act irritated and snap at the Elfling, Maglor knew Caranthir enjoyed having Elerondo around. The Elfling never took offense to whatever Caranthir had to say, always wearing a smile and shrieking with laughter when he succeeded in getting the attention of his absolute favorite uncle.

Ambarto and Pityo had immediately decided they liked this new Elfling and allowed Elerondo to aid them in whatever pranks they would conjure up. Maglor had been shocked to find that Nelyo wasn't jesting when he said the two could think of the most creative, and innovative, pranks.

Meanwhile, Turgon and Maglor had become close friends. It had been strange at first, but soon, Maglor and Turgon found that they rather enjoyed each other's company.

Their friendship had definitely thrown off their families, though Nerdanel was pleased with it. She didn't hold anything against Nolofinwë or his family. She hoped, that the friendship Nelyo shared with Findekano and the one Maglor and Turgon had would lead her other sons to give their cousins and uncles a chance. She wanted her family to be united, not divided, and that included Nolofinwë and Arafinwë, as well as their children.

Maglor agreed. If their family could be brought together, perhaps, it would impact the future. Hopefully, for the better and not for the worse.

A deep sigh drew Maglor from his thoughts and he looked to find Nolofinwë step out onto the balcony he was on, completely oblivious to the fact that his nephew was there.

"Uncle!"

Never in Maglor's life had he seen Nolofinwë start so violently from having been caught off guard. The poor ner jerked, wide grey eyes snapping over to where Maglor was hidden in the shadows.

Narrowing his eyes, Nolofinwë could just barely see the outline of his nephew and exhaled deeply. "Makalaurë...You startled me."

Maglor snickered. "I could tell."

Nolofinwë shot him a resentful look, but it was betrayed by his twinkling eyes. "What are you still doing awake? 'Tis quite late."

Maglor shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. What of you?"

"Nightmare." Nolofinwë replied, walking over towards the railing of the balcony and leaning against it. "A strange one at that..." He murmured under his breath, but Maglor caught it.

"How so?" Maglor inquired. Nolofinwë glimpsed at him and shook his head.

"It is nothing."

But Maglor knew better. From the look in his Uncle's eyes, he could tell this nightmare had unsettled him.

"Uncle..." He tsked.

Nolofinwë huffed out a small laugh. "It was truly nothing, Makalaurë."

Maglor hummed disbelievingly, noticing how his Uncle's grip on the railing tightened. He frowned, but didn't press his Uncle any further.

They said nothing for some time as Nolofinwë gazed out into the night sky. Maglor retreated back into his thoughts, trying to think of a way their group could prepare their families for what was to come. He still didn't know how they could, and with the Holiday coming up, they would be too busy to plan.

He was still pondering over what to do when his Uncle's voice broke into his thoughts.

"...Arda..."

Maglor whipped his head in Nolofinwë's direction, immediately demanding, "What did you say?"

Nolofinwë turned his head towards him, a little confused. "What do you mean? I said nothing."

"You didn't?" Maglor asked, a frown crinkling his forehead. "I could have sworn you said...Arda." He carefully responded, watching his Uncle's reaction.

Nolofinwë appeared rather surprised. "Oh...Perhaps I was thinking aloud. Why? Is it something significant?" He asked in reply, catching the flicker of recognition in Maglor's eyes.

Maglor shifted closer to the edge of the bench, gazing at his Uncle. "Uncle...What did you dream about?"

The elder ner didn't respond for a moment. "I'm not exactly sure, to be honest. There were so many things happening I couldn't keep up with it. I only remember a few words I heard."

"What were they?"

"Why are you so interested to know, Makalaurë?" Nolofinwë inquired. Maglor didn't answer, instead asking again,

"What words did you hear, Uncle?"

Nolofinwë sighed. "I will answer your questions if you will answer one of mine."

Maglor thought over this deal. "Fair enough." He agreed. "So, what do you remember hearing?"

"I heard the words 'Turgon,' 'Aredhel,'" Nolofinwë began listing off, not noticing how the minstrel was now openly staring at him. "-and 'Caranthir.' But...The last one I believe I heard was 'Maglor.' Apparently, from what I remember, all but one of them died."

Maglor was frozen into place, stunned.

What was this? His Uncle had had a vision of the future? Of what their future had been?

"I didn't understand it...When this Turgon and Aredhel were killed...I was grievously saddened...As if I knew them personally." Nolofinwë bowed his head, as if he were still pained by their deaths in his dream. "But I have never heard of them before."

You did...do know them, Maglor thought to himself.

Nolofinwë inhaled quietly before looking to Maglor with a small smile. "That was all I remember."

Maglor managed a nod, still quite confused. He hadn't know Nolofinwë could have visions...

Or maybe he couldn't...

"I see..."

"Now, seeing as I answered your question, you must answer one of mine."

"Ah, yes. That was the agreement wasn't it?" Maglor said, straightening. "Well, ask away."

"Makalaurë," Nolofinwë hesitated, glancing back into the house before looking back at Maglor, "Is Elerondo your son?"

Maglor blinked.

Then blinked again.

That was not what Maglor had been expecting.

"What gave you that idea?" Maglor calmly asked, curious to know. Nolofinwë had only met Elrond a couple of times...

"I kept noticing you disappearing into the Halls of Healing every once-in-a-while, and usually, when you left, you had Elerondo with you. The way the two of you interacted...How excited and thrilled Elerondo was to see you...Well, the both of you act as Father and Son, it made me wonder, and I had to ask."

Of course. Maglor had forgotten how skilled Nolofinwë was in reading between the lines. He could see things others would normally miss.

"He is...isn't he?" They both knew it wasn't really a question.

"Well-" Maglor began, but was cut off when a new voice called out his name.

Both Nolofinwë and Maglor tensed, giving one another identical oh-Valar looks as they turned in time to see Fëanaro walk outside onto the balcony. He was wearing a loose white shirt and black leggings, his hair mussed and braids ruined. He had clearly not been resting as he should've been based from the dark circles underneath his eyes.

A slow smile, and not a friendly one at that, spread across Fëanaro's lips as the ner kept their gazes locked.

"Why, my little Songbird, you left so quickly last night that I was unable to personally meet my own grandson."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Nolofinwë and Maglor could do nothing but stare dumbly at Fëanaro. How had they missed hearing him enter? What was he even doing out of the Halls of Healing?

"Speaking of which, when _were_ you planning on telling me that he was your son?" Fëanaro added, tilting his head in question.

Maglor didn't answer.

Fëanaro quirked an eyebrow.

"At some point?" Maglor finally answered, shrugging innocently.

Fëanaro looked unimpressed by the answer.

Another thirty seconds passed, and for Maglor, it felt like an eternity. Nolofinwë didn't look at all surprised by Fëanaro's words, having already figured out the fact that Elerondo was Maglor's son. Fëanaro appeared to catch onto this and lowered his gaze, a little disheartened.

Maglor inwardly groaned. His Father must believe he told Nolofinwë that he'd had a son rather than telling Fëanaro.

"Look-" Maglor started to say, but was once again interrupted by an abrupt exclamation.

" _I KNEW IT!_ "

The three Elves jerked at the new voice, whipping around to see Curvo and Tyelko emerge from where they had been hiding in the room. Curvo didn't pay them any attention, instead jabbing a finger in Tyelko's direction with a victorious smile.

"I _told_ you! I definitely _told_ you!" He sounded rather pleased with himself.

Well, this was not what Maglor was expecting.

Tyelko shot him a glare, crossing his arms defiantly. "Well, how was I supposed to believe such an outrageous claim? I mean...It's Makalaurë."

Curvo rolled his eyes. "Lame excuse, but admit it, I told you."

Tyelko muttered something under his breath, raising his hands in the air. "Fine, fine, calm your horses, Curvo. No need to get so excited."

"Say it." Curvo demanded.

"Varda's name, Curvo! Fine! You were right!"

Curvo leaned back, happy.

"Wait..." Fëanaro slowly began, uncaring that his sons had been eavesdropping. "How did you find out?"

Curvo grinned. "Simple. I watched them."

Maglor's brows drew together. "You watched us? When?"

"In the Healing Halls, when you went to visit him with Moryo. I watched the two of you interact."

"I see...Who else is here?" Maglor asked loudly, knowing Tyelko and Curvo hadn't been the only ones sneaking around.

Aredhel, Turgon, and Caranthir sheepishly revealed themselves.

"What in Eru's name...When did you arrive?" Maglor wanted to know, looking at each person, wondering how in Arda he could have missed the fact that he and Nolofinwë weren't alone.

"We followed Atto..." Came the response from Curvo and Tyelko. "We knew something was up."

Purposefully ignoring the shocked looks he was receiving from Fëanaro and Tyelko, Maglor shook his head. He should have known.

It was uncomfortably silent, and Maglor bit his lower lip. He felt he was being buried under the weight of everyone's stares and it was not a feeling the minstrel was accustomed to.

Turgon, Aredhel, and Caranthir were, for reasons only known to Maglor, unaffected by the news.

This time, Fëanaro turned to pin Caranthir with an intense stare. "I suppose you knew then?"

Caranthir carelessly shrugged. "Yeah."

"Anyone else, beside us, know then?" Fëanaro asked, not truly expecting to receive an answer.

Turgon and Aredhel glanced at one another and Fëanaro sighed, having caught the look they shared. "The two of you then?"

They nodded.

"How?"

"Um..." Aredhel began uncertainly, looking to her brother. Turgon shook his head at her, knowing Aredhel wanted him to answer for the both of them.

"Makalaurë told us."

Fëanaro clearly did not like this answer and Maglor inwardly sighed.

"You're...quite young, Makalaurë." Nolofinwë remarked.

"Younger than I was," Fëanaro muttered. "And everyone thought _I_ was insane."

Maglor face-palmed.

This was going to be a looong night.

"Wait a minute..." Tyelko, ever the slow one, gasped, realization dawning over him. "That means we're _uncles!_ "

"Oh, Tyelko..." Maglor fondly chuckled while everyone else either laughed at Tyelko's slowness or gave him the same look Curvo wore.

Tyelko reddened, defensively snapping back, "What?"

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Needless to say, Elrond was ecstatic that he could finally come out of hiding. By the next morning, the family, those who knew about Elrond, had already adopted Elrond as their new family member. Elrond was more than happy to spend time with all of his new family members.

Elrond was now sitting in Maglor's lap.

Well, he _was._ Curiosity got the best of the Elfling and he slipped away from Maglor and wandered over to Fëanaro, peering up at him in awe. Fëanaro was staring back down at him, wondering what in Aman he could possibly want.

"So..." Elrond began, glimpsing back towards Maglor and pointing up at Fëanaro, "Atto, he my Andatar?"

Anyone could have heard a pin drop after Elrond spoke.

Finwë was gaping at the Elfling and Maglor, Nerdanel's jaw dropped, and Nelyo was trying to process Elrond's words in his mind while incredulously staring at Makalaurë. He and Findekano both appeared gobsmacked, Curvo was calmly regarding his brother, and Tyelko was sort of already getting over his surprise. Ambarto and Pityo, who had been with Nelyo, didn't understand what exactly was going on, but they knew it had to be something reeeeally shocking based from the looks everyone wore.

Maglor rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. He should have known this would happen sooner or later.

"Yes. That is Fëanaro, my Atto."

"They look like Andatar..." Elrond looked at Curvo and Moryo. "And Atto! You look like Andatar." He returned to Maglor and crawled into his lap. Once settled, the Elfling dropped back against Maglor's chest. Maglor smiled down at him, wrapping his arms around the small Elfling and resting his chin on Elrond's head.

"Yes, indeed. Nelyo, Ambarto, and Pityo took after Ammë."

"But, he look like Andatar." Elrond pointed to Finwë, then spotted Nolofinwë and blinked. "And him..."

Fëanaro pursed his lips but said nothing.

"That is your great-grandfather." Maglor told Elrond, nudging his head in Finwë's direction while discreetly eyeing Turgon in the corner of his eye right when he said it. Turgon had no idea Elrond was his direct descendant, and that it was _he_ who was Elrond's actual great-grandfather.

Ambarto and Pityo looked up when they heard their names, but, figuring it wasn't anything important, went back to doodling.

"Wait a moment..." Nerdanel finally managed to find her voice. "What is this?"

Elrond looked at her then shook his head. "You no look like her, though, Atto."

Maglor bit his lip, laughing inwardly at the looks on Nelyo, Fidekano, Finwë, and his Mother's faces.

Nerdanel laughed at the little Elfling, some of the shock she felt fading away. "No. He does not. A shame, really."

Fëanaro gave her an offended look, which Elrond found funny. He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter when Fëanaro raised an eyebrow at him. When he gave a small grin, Elrond graced him with a wide smile.

"All but three of my sons took after their Atto." She thoughtfully tipped her head to the side. "Well...I don't know about Tyelko...He has his Father's eyes, but that is all..."

Finwë was the second one to speak, "When..? Hold a moment," He raised a hand to keep Maglor from speaking when he remembered something, "Didn't Elerondo claim to be _nineteen_ years of age?"

What..?

When did Elrond say he was nineteen? WHY did he say he was nineteen? Why hadn't Maglor known of this?

Based from the way Turgon was averting his gaze, Maglor would hazard to guess it was Turgon's idea.

Oh, Maglor was in so much trouble...

Now _everyone_ was giving him incredulous looks.

" _KANO!_ " Nerdanel exclaimed, her voice incredibly high.

Maglor flinched, glaring daggers at Caranthir as he laughed at his brother's misfortune.

"Not only that..." Nerdanel narrowed her green eyes. "But this is Elerondo we are speaking of...This supposed 'nephew of Nalara' Elfling, from the East Coast of Aman." She sternly looked to both Caranthir and Maglor when she spoke.

Oh Valar, Maglor was definitely in trouble. Even Caranthir had silenced.

The two shifted a little uneasily in their seats.

"Yes?" He timidly replied, fiddling with his sleeve, hoping Nerdanel wouldn't get too upset.

Nerdanel pondered over this, seemingly calm. Maglor didn't know what to expect. His Mother could be rather unpredictable at times, though she was extremely patient and understanding...

But this was different.

Much different.

Nelyo, still taken aback, turned to face Maglor. "Why didn't you tell us?" He asked, gesturing to himself, Tyelko, and Curvo. Why hadn't Maglor told them? He'd told Aredhel and Turgon, but kept his brothers in the dark.

Maglor's shoulders dropped. "I couldn't."

"Couldn't?"

"I didn't know how to tell you. I was going to, believe me, I was, but I didn't know how to break the news and how you would react."

Nelyo moved his gaze to the ground, looking rather down. "You could have at least said something to me...I would not have said anything."

"I was going to!" Maglor assured his tall brother. Nelyo looked unconvinced. Maglor growled lightly, running a hand through his hair. "I was. In fact, you were the first person I was going to tell."

"But I wasn't."

Maglor dropped his head.

He should have known Nelyo would have been a little wounded by this.

"Who?" Nerdanel inquired, and Maglor chewed on his lower lip. "Do I know his Ammë?"

If only they knew...

"No."

Nerdanel pinned him with a stern look. "Will I ever _meet_ his Ammë ?"

It wasn't a question.

Maglor sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Perhaps?"

"I had better Makalaurë, or else." Nerdanel warned, pointing a finger in his direction. Elrond looked at her then up at his Atto in confusion.

"Atto,"

"Yes, Elerondo?" Maglor sighed, peering down at the Elfling he held.

"Are you in trouble?" Elrond asked, a little guiltily. He knew his Atto had to be because he'd said something. If he'd kept his mouth shut, his Atto wouldn't be in trouble.

Catching his line of thought, Maglor soothingly patted Elrond's head, shaking his head.

"It wasn't your fault, little one. They were going to find out sooner or later."

"Oh..." Elrond's shoulders dropped. So his Atto _was_ in trouble.

Nerdanel, not able to stand the brokenhearted expression Elrond wore, immediately went to reassure him. "He isn't in trouble, Elerondo. It is just a shock for me to learn that I am...an Andammë." She admitted, the word sounding foreign on her tongue. She made a face after saying it.

"How do you think I feel?" Finwë incredulously spoke up after Nerdanel. "I am an And-Andatar now. Valar, do I feel old now."

Everyone shared a laugh at this.

"So, before we move along, I have to ask, Makalaurë," Fëanaro leaned forward inquisitively, "Is there anything else we should know?"

Maglor shared a look with Elrond, grinning mischievously. He leaned closer to the Elfling, whispering in his ear, "It appears they have forgotten something important, hm, ionya?"

Elrond smiled evilly and raised a hand, effectively grabbing everyone's attention.

"I have a twin?" He innocently reminded everyone.

The reactions he received were the best.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

 _ **There is part I of the update I promised! I do hope you enjoyed it! Stay turned for Part II!**_


	13. Play Anyone?

_**Update part II people! I said I would put up a double update, so here it is! Please, read and enjoy. Reviews are welcome, along with constructive criticism.**_

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

It was done. The letter had been written.

Turgon snapped his head in the direction of his bedroom door when a minuscule sound reached him, waiting for a few tense moments before quickly slipping the piece of parchment into an envelope and sealing it.

What he was doing went against everything they had planned, and could possibly change everything, but he had to do it. Checking to see if the sun had yet risen, Turgon was relieved to find that it was nearing dawn.

He would be done with this soon.

All he needed to do was get this letter to Tyelko, have him take it to the recipient, and he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

He had to do this now, before he changed his mind.

Hastily standing, Turgon checked his appearance in the mirror. Deeming himself fine, Turgon silently walked over to the door to his room and left.

The home of Fëanaro was silent, telling Turgon that everyone was still asleep.

Good.

He was just about to step foot out of the house when a shadow moved in the corner of his eye.

Jumping in surprise, Turgon relaxed when he realized who it was.

"Thurginwethil." He sighed in relief.

"What has you so uptight?" Thuringwethil inquired, genuinely curious. Her dark orbs sought out Turgon's and narrowed when she recognized the uncertainty and apprehension in them. "Something wrong?"

Turgon immediately shook his head, denying it. "No. Nothing is wrong."

"Then what are you so wound up about?"

"This." Turgon admitted, raising the letter he held. Thuringwethil took the letter from his hand, scanning who it was addressed to.

She blinked and slowly looked up at him.

"Are you sure that is a good idea?"

Turgon shook his head. "No."

"Then why are you doing it?"

The tall ner exhaled deeply, gazing out into the sunrise. "Caranthir asked me to, and I agreed."

"Why?"

"I could not refuse him. If you had seen him, Thuringwethil, you would have understood."

Concern flickered through her eyes. "Did something happen?"

"No." Turgon said. "Not yet, at least." He corrected himself.

Thuringwethil hummed in reply, waving the letter in the air. "He's not going to be happy about it." She told Turgon, emphasizing the word 'he.'

"I know." Turgon nodded, but there was something in his tone that caught her attention.

Narrowing her eyes, Thuringwethil asked, "Were you planning on telling him about this?"

She already knew the answer, but Turgon answered anyway.

"No."

"Hm. Well, you had better hurry before they all wake up." Was all she said, sniffing the air. "Huh. Maglor's already awake. And so is your brother."

"Already?!" Turgon murmured to himself, snatching the letter back and placing it in the folds of his robes. "If anyone asks," He started to say, hurriedly descending the stairs to the courtyard, "Tell them I went for a walk!"

Thuringwethil stared after him, watching as Turgon zipped across the Courtyard and vanish into the woods. "Sure thing..." She turned and walked back into the home, nose crinkling when she smelled what the cooks were making for breakfast. "Ugh...I really need to feed soon...All this Elven food is making me sick."

Unknown to Thuringwethil, there were two pairs of eyes watching her from around the corner, blinking at the strange thing she had said.

When she was almost out of sight, they shuffled out of their hiding place and chased after her, curious to learn more about this mysterious servant.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

Turgon hiked up his robes in order to help himself run better, wishing he had decided to change the night before, but with all of the excitement that was going on, Turgon hadn't been able to.

He hoped he wasn't too late. He knew, from Maglor, that Tyelko always rose up early and went for a run in the woods. If only he could find him...

Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, Turgon examined his surroundings.

He blinked when he spotted a flash of gold and called out, "Tyelkormo!"

There was silence for a little time, making Turgon wonder if he had imagined it. He was put at ease when the gold reappeared and a voice returned his call,

"Turukano?"

Tyelko emerged from the trees, wearing his hunting attire and holding his bow in his left hand. His golden hair had been tied back and out of his face and he was giving Turgon a confused look.

"What are you doing out here?"

Turgon didn't bother to answer, waiting for Tyelko to reach him. "Here," He said, fishing out the letter from his robes and holding it out for Tyelko to take.

Tyelko slowly extended an arm to take it, bewildered. "What is this?"

"That is for the Lord Oromë."

Tyelko whipped his head up to look at Turgon with a startled glance. His jaw dropped. "How did you..?"

"None of your concern." Turgon dismissed his question with a wave of his hand, sternly looking to his cousin. "Be sure that he receives it at once and when you return, tell your brother, Moryo, that it has been done."

Concern flashed across Tyelko's features upon seeing the seriousness in his cousin's eyes. "Is everything alright?"

Turgon sighed quietly. "Hopefully. I suppose we shall see." He vaguely answered. "Will you give it to him?" He asked, gesturing to the letter.

Tyelko thought for a moment, staring at the letter before nodding. "Yes...I will."

"Good." Turgon relaxed a little, guilt eating at a small part of his conscience. It was too late to go back now, however, so Turgon shoved it back. He had chosen to do it, had agreed to help Caranthir, so he was going to stick with it and deal with the consequences later. "Thank-you."

And with that, Turgon left, leaving a bewildered and concerned Tyelko with the letter in hand.

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

"Ah, Tyelkormo, there you are." The voice of Lord Oromë tore Tyelko from his thoughts and the hunter turned to find the Vala approaching him with a kind smile. "I was wondering where you had gone..." Oromë trailed off when Tyelko wordlessly handed him a letter, his brow furrowed. "Is everything well?"

"I don't know." Tyelko honestly replied with a shrug. "I don't seem to know anything anymore. I was just given this by my cousin. He asked me to make sure you received it." He frowned deeply.

"Is that so?" Oromë hummed deeply, turning the letter over in his hands. "I will read it in a moment then. First, I have something I wish to give to you."

Tyelko perked up. "What?"

Oromë smiled again. "Yes. A little gift."

"But..." Tyelko began to protest, only for Oromë to shake his head.

"I insist, Tyelkormo. You have been kind enough to join me on my hunts, and I am afraid this little gift of mine has grown rather fond of you." He chuckled at Tyelko's confusion as the younger of the two raised an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

Oromë didn't answer, instead looking down at the bag that he had slung over his shoulder. "Honestly, little one?" He tsked, reaching into the bag to take whatever was inside it out. The three hunting dogs accompanying him obediently sat down, watching him. "You were the one who pestered me all morning to leave and we finally arrive only for you to hide yourself away as though you are shy?"

A small yip was his response and Tyelko's eyes widened, understanding dawning over him.

Oromë huffed disbelievingly, gently pulling out a small, fluffy white pup and holding it before him. "You are deceiving no one, pup. We all know you are most certainly not shy."

The pup barked back, wriggling in his hold as if protesting.

Oromë wouldn't have it, turning the pup around so it could face Tyelko.

Tyelko stared at it in awe. It was a beautiful little puppy with brilliant blue eyes and silky fur. It was different from the other hunting dogs Oromë had, but Tyelko was sure it was no less skilled.

"Do stop pretending, little one."

The pup, spotting Tyelko, yipped and wagged its tail excitedly, releasing a string of high-pitched barks. Oromë held the pup out for Tyelko and the hunter dazedly took it into his arms.

The pup jumped and pawed at Tyelko, licking at him. Tyelko was too in awe to care. He looked up at Oromë. "A puppy?" Was all he could say and Oromë laughed melodiously.

"Yes. This pup is quite a handful. Eru knows he loves to disobey me, but I suspect he will behave for you." Oromë told him, warmly, reaching out and petting the pup's head. "He is an intelligent little one and has inherited much from his parents. I will warn you, he will grow. I believe he may become the biggest of his entire family."

"I...Thank-you, Oromë." Tyelko bowed as best he could with the pup he was holding and Oromë ruffled his hair, smiling.

"Think nothing of it. It was the little one's idea. He would not let me rest until I promised to give him to you."

"But..." Tyelko looked down at the pup. "I never met him before."

"He watched you from afar and heard much from his parents and fellow family and friends. He will be missed but we know he will be well-taken care of." The Vala said. He watched as Tyelko pet the pup and as the pup settled in his arms contentedly. "Oh, so you will behave for this one, is that it?" Oromë crossed his arms.

The pup released a short howl.

"Oh, yes?"

Another bark.

"I do not believe you."

The pup looked offended and Tyelko laughed. "He has quite a personality."

"Yes." Oromë agreed. "This little one does. It should not be too difficult to understand him. Now," the Vala twisted the letter in his grasp, "To see what these young ones need."

"Young ones?" Tyelko repeated. "I thought it was only Turukano..."

"He may have been the one who wrote it..." Oromë distractedly said, pulling the letter out of the envelope and unfolding it.

Tyelko watched as Oromë scanned the parchment.

He felt his concern rise once more when the smile Oromë wore gradually faded and his normally warm and inviting expression morphed into a troubled one.

After he finished reading, Oromë reread it as if to make sure he hadn't misunderstood it. Once through, he slowly lowered the letter.

"Oromë?" Tyelko questioned, but the Vala didn't seem to hear him.

"This is troubling news..." Oromë remarked lowly, lips pursed. As if remembering Tyelko was still there, Oromë looked to him apologetically. "I apologize, Tyelkormo, but I must leave immediately."

Tyelko's brows drew together. What in Eru's name could the letter have said?

"Is everything alright?" He asked, watching as the hunting dogs stood in sync, sensing their Master's urgency.

Oromë sighed, shaking his head. "I do not know. I had hoped..." He looked away, not finishing whatever it was he was going to say. "It appears we were wrong, though how they know is beyond me." He faced Tyelko once more. "The pup has refused to be given a name by anyone other than you, so feel free to name him. I may not return for some time, but if you ever have need of me, do not hesitate to call."

Tyelko nodded confusedly. What was going on? He could tell that whatever was in the letter had affected Oromë from the look in his eyes.

Without waiting for an answer, Oromë departed, the hunting dogs following after him and Tyelko was left once more to wonder what in Aman was going on.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

"Atto!" an excited call roused Maglor from his sleep. The minstrel stirred but didn't move. He didn't have to.

Before the poor ner could become a little more aware of the outside world, he was suddenly jumped on by a hyper young Elfling. "Attooo!"

"Oof! Elrond!" Maglor grunted, bouncing a bit as Elrond raised his head off of Maglor's chest and gave him a bright smile. "What in Varda's name is the meaning of this?"

"It snowing, Atto! It snowing!" Elrond breathlessly informed him, pointing towards the window for Maglor to look.

Maglor tiredly rolled his head to the side to find that Elrond was correct. It was snowing. "That's good, Elrond..." Maglor mumbled, wanting to go back to sleep, but apparently, Elrond had a different idea.

"Atto!" Elrond shook him and Maglor wearily glared at him. Elrond barely noticed. "I want to play in the snow!"

Maglor groaned and rolled over, hearing Elrond yelp as he was unbalanced and sent falling into the bed beside his Atto. "There probably isn't enough snow right now, Elrond, and it is too early to play."

Elrond pouted. "No it's not! We always get up at dawn, Atto!" Elrond denied, crawling over to Maglor and nudging him. Maglor sighed and turned back over. Before Elrond could move, he grabbed hold of Elfling and rolled onto his side once more.

Elrond grunted as he was trapped against his Atto with no way to move. He struggled against Maglor's grip, but the arm around him tightened.

"I am not getting up for another couple of hours, Elrond, so you might as well go back to sleep." He muttered sleepily.

Elrond slumped back in defeat.

"Attoooo..." he whined.

"Hush, Elrond."

"But, Atto..."

"No."

A bunch of unhappy grumbling followed after Maglor's response and the minstrel cracked open his eyes, regarding the Elfling in amusement.

"What was that?" He asked and Elrond stilled.

"Nothing." Came the hasty response.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"I am pretty certain that I heard you say-" Maglor began, but was cut off by Elrond,

"You're hearing things, Atto." The Elfling sweetly said, innocently tilting his head up to look at him. "See, Elros and I told you you were getting old." He added, poking Maglor's arm.

"I beg your pardon?"

Elrond only smiled.

"Ha! He's old?" A new voice laughed, and Maglor jerked awake to find Nelyo had entered his room and was striding over to his bedside. "What does that make me then?"

Elrond didn't even think before he answered. "Ancient."

Both Nelyo and Maglor chuckled at him and Elrond fought to sit up, but Maglor still wouldn't let him move.

"Neeeel!" Elrond complained. "Tell Atto to let me go!"

Nelyo raised his hands in a helpless gesture. "I can't make your Atto do anything, little one, but he is needed anyway."

"I'm needed? This early?" Maglor stared pleadingly at Nelyo. "A couple of more hours?"

"I would let you, Kano, but we have to prepare for the holiday. This year is expected to be the largest celebration yet."

"Why's that?" Maglor mumbled, placing one of his pillows over his head in order to block out the light seeping into his room.

Nelyo rolled his eyes. "Kano. You returned. That is why we are all going to Tirion to celebrate the holiday."

"...What?"

Maglor groggily sat up, dropping the pillow as he tiredly eyeing Nelyo. Valar, all of the excitement from last night had really gotten to him. He hadn't been able to sleep. Nerdanel doted on Elrond, spoiling him with treats, much to Maglor's dismay. They weren't the ones who dealt with a hyperactive Elrond later that night. Of course, the initial shock that Maglor had a son still hadn't released the family from its hold, but they were slowly starting to accept that fact.

"I said, we are going to Tirion to celebrate the holiday." Nelyo repeated himself, biting back a laugh at his brother's appearance. Maglor had the feeling he must look terrible from the amusement glimmering in Nelyo's eyes. "And we have to leave by tomorrow before the snowfall."

Maglor fell back onto his pillows, feeling much like a child as he glared at the ceiling. "All I wanted was a couple more hours of sleep..Is that so much to ask?"

Elrond shrugged. "Now you know how El and I feel." He said unsympathetically. "Come on, Atto! We should help!" He said, completely forgetting to speak in Quenya. He tugged on Maglor's arm. "Think of all the decorations! And lights! Oooh! Do you think there will be lanterns?!"

Maglor helplessly looked to Nelyo. It was Maedhros's fault for showing Elrond those lanterns their Father had created. And the lamps. Ever since Elrond and Elros learned about the lamps, they were obsessed with them.

"Probably. Ask your Andatar. I'm sure he would be thrilled to show you some of his lamps..." Maglor lazily responded, noticing the odd look Nelyo was giving them. "Nelyo?"

Nelyo looked confused as he watched Maglor and Elrond interact. "Kano...What language are you speaking?"

Maglor blinked then mentally face-palmed. Because Elrond had slipped into Sindarin, he had unconsciously done the same. He couldn't help it! His mind switched anytime he heard someone speak in Sindarin or Quenya and he would respond in whichever language was being spoken.

"Sorry. I didn't realize what we were doing." Maglor apologized, sighing when he realized he was now wide awake. So much for getting some more sleep. "But, in answer to your question, it is Sindarin."

Nelyo frowned. "Never heard of it..."

"You wouldn't have."

"Is that the language spoken where Elerondo is from?"

"Yes." Maglor nodded.

Seeing his brother was answering his questions, Nelyo dared to ask another. "Kano...Is Elerondo even from Valinor?"

Maglor paused for a moment, but seeing the uncertain look in his brother's eyes, decided he should at least answer that question. Nelyo deserved to know.

"No."

Nelyo mulled over the answer, but didn't ask anymore questions. Maglor was thankful for that.

"Well," Nelyo clasped his hands together, drifting away from the subject, "There is only one problem with the upcoming celebration."

Maglor curiously looked to him. "What is that?"

"Usually, we hold a play of some kind for entertainment...you remember, usually telling stories of heroes and whatnot," Nelyo started to say, continuing when Maglor nodded. "Well, this year, no one signed up for the play. We have nothing planned and the holiday is in a couple of weeks."

"Oh...That is rather troublesome." Maglor agreed. He was about to suggest a few different people who could quickly put together a play when he was suddenly hit with an idea.

Excitement stirred within the minstrel when he pondered over the idea, a smile growing on his lips. "That's it!" He abruptly exclaimed, causing Nelyo and Elrond to stare at him in confusion. "Oh! It works! Fantastic!" Maglor threw off his covers and slipped out of his bed, quickly putting on his slippers.

"What? What is?" Nelyo asked, watching as his brother rushed over to his wardrobe and threw on the closest robe he could grab.

Maglor darted to the other side of his room, collecting several different pieces of paper off his desk and a few quills, tossing the vessel of ink he had to Nelyo. "Don't worry about the play, Nelyo. I have one in mind." He distractedly told his brother, running through his idea in his mind and taking whatever it was he would need. "It won't take long for me to write down, so you have nothing to worry about. I have the music already composed and everything!" Maglor chattered on, his excitement growing.

Elrond stared at his Atto, a little put off by the sudden shift in his normally quiet, reserved demeanor. What could have possibly made his Atto so...happy?

Clearly, this was also what Nelyo was wondering.

The minstrel yanked his boots on, speedily tying the laces then rushed over to the mirror.

Faster than what Nelyo thought possible, he had his hair braided and tugged out of his face.

Maglor suddenly paused before his brother, thinking over something. "I'll need you, Nelyo." He murmured, still deep in thought. "And Nolofinwë, perhaps. Elerondo, Caranthir...Tyelko and Curvo...Turu and Irissë will need to be a part of it. Oh, this is marvelous!" Maglor clapped his hands together, eyes twinkling brightly, having already been struck with inspiration.

"If you say so..." Nelyo slowly agreed before what Maglor had said sunk into his mind. "Wait...You need me? For what?" Please say for props... Was left unspoken by Nelyo.

"Oh," Maglor shrugged, placing a few more items into Nelyo's arms. "You are going to be a crucial character in the play."

Nelyo didn't like this idea. "You mean, _I-"_ He pointed to himself, "-am going to be one...one of the main...characters?" He rephrased Maglor's words, sounding opposed to the idea.

Maglor nodded. "Yes. And you cannot say no!"

"Kano..." Nelyo started to object. He most certainly did not want to act in front of hundreds of Elves! Valar he was a horrid actor! Surely Kano remembered that?

Clearly not.

Maglor bit back a sigh, turning and pleadingly looking up at his brother. "Please, Nelyo? Consider it my early holiday gift from you?"

Nelyo dropped his head back, hating that he could never say no when his brothers gave him _that_ look. "I cannot believe I am doing this..."

Maglor flashed him a brilliant smile, making Nelyo smile back in return. "Hannon-le, Muindor!" He thanked him, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

The smile sort of faded from Nelyo's face as he raised a questioning eyebrow at the foreign words.

"Welcome?" Knowing Maglor hadn't heard him, too deep in thought about the play he had in mind, Nelyo shrugged and looked to Elrond.

Elrond only shrugged back and they went back to watching Maglor rapidly gather his instruments and lead them away from his room.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

"Anyone know where Maglor is?" Turgon asked Caranthir, Aredhel, and Thuringwethil when the four met up in the Family Room later that morning. "I've been searching for him all morning, but he is nowhere to be found."

"You probably won't be able to find him for a while." Caranthir answered from his place on the chaise. His arm dangled over the side and he was holding a book in his right hand, dark orbs skimming over its contents. "I heard from Nelyo that he had one of his moments. Usually, when that happens, Maglor hides himself away from the world until he is finished with whatever it is he's doing."

Aredhel nodded. "Findekano said something about that. Apparently, Maglor was so excited about whatever it was he barely paid attention to anything around him. He knocked poor Findekano down a couple of steps when he went rushing off to the market." She grimaced as she thought about the bruise her brother now sported.

"Yes." Thuringwethil growled lightly. "He ruined my perfectly cleaned table in the Study! There is ink e _verywhere!_ Not only that, but it stained my clothes..." She raised her apron up for everyone to see the black stains decorating the pure white fabric. "I don't think I've seen someone so engrossed in whatever they're doing. He didn't seem to notice I was even there, and I purposefully made noise."

"That's Maglor for you. It probably has something to do with music, or some other spectacle." Caranthir drawled, lazily turning the page of his book. "Did you get a glimpse of what he may have been writing?"

Thuringwethil hummed an affirmative. "Some play of some kind."

"Hmph. There you go. Our dear Maglor has decided to put together a play for the upcoming holiday. I know Ammë was worried that we wouldn't have one this year."

"Really?" Aredhel perked up. "That sounds exciting! I heard stories of the plays Maglor directed and the music he composed to go along with them! Oh! I can't wait to see it!"

"Oh, you will not only be able to see it," Maglor's voice piped up, drawing everyone's attention to where the minstrel now stood in the doorway. There was a pile of papers cradled against his chest, with ink stains on his glove and face. "You will take part _in_ it."

Turgon slowly rounded on him, catching sight of Caranthir setting his book down and turning to face Maglor.

"Sorry? I don't think I understood you correctly," Caranthir began, "But I could've sworn you just said that we were going to take part in the play?"

Maglor smiled evilly. "Oh, yes, Caranthir, you are. Everyone of us is."

"No." Caranthir immediately denied, shaking his head. "Not a chance."

Maglor quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think I gave you a choice."

Caranthir narrowed his eyes on the minstrel, crossing his arms defiantly. "Why should I do this? I don't want to."

Maglor sighed, casting his gaze down to the ground, shoulders slouched. "It's...It's something I've been thinking about for a while now, to be honest."

"What?"

"Well...I've been trying to think of a way to warn our families of what is to come." Maglor replied, indicating to the papers he held. "And when Nelyo informed me that there wasn't a play, I knew I had to do it! Here," He dropped the papers onto the table, collecting them together and placing them in a neat stack. Once he was finished, Maglor handed them to Turgon. "You will find that I created a story that perfectly parallels ours."

Turgon took hold of the papers, shuffling through them. Aredhel moved closer to him, Thuringwethil and Caranthir following until the three were situated in a place where they could read the papers along with him.

"I figured it might be best if we were to be the main actors and actresses seeing as we know the story quite well. It would have more of an affect on the audience..." He bit his lip when he watched the four finger through the play he had worked hard on to write. "I know it will be difficult for us to do since it would remind us of...some painful memories..."

"No..." Aredhel murmured quietly, taking hold of the papers from Turgon. "I think it is the best idea any of us have had. It would work." The nis nodded, her hands trembling slightly when she read about her part of the play. Maglor had flawlessly captured everything. The emotion he included, the details were on par, and she wondered how Maglor knew so much about everything when he hadn't even been present.

Turgon, Caranthir, and Thuringwethil silently agreed with Aredhel.

"It..." Turgon tried to say, but his voice cracked. Clearing his throat, Turgon weakly grinned as he faced Maglor. "You've outdone yourself, Maglor. Everything you've put into this play...I don't know if the Elves will be able to handle it."

"Oh, they'll love it." Caranthir stated assuredly, peering over Aredhel's shoulder to read the story about him, Celegorm, and Curufin. "We Elves tend to love these kinds of plays...the ones that toys with emotions and makes you sit on the edge of your seat, unable to look away..." He curtly nodded to himself. "They will enjoy it." He swallowed thickly.

Maglor smiled kindly at the remarks. "I am glad." He cleared his throat, trying to lighten the melancholy atmosphere, "The only problem that I have is finding an Elfling to play Elros, and two Elves to play Amrod and Amras. I managed to rope my other brothers into it, and Nolofinwë was kind enough to accept his part...Perhaps Nalara could play Ammë's...and someone can play Atto's."

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

The door to the library creaked open, causing Erestor to stir and look over to see who had entered into his sanctuary.

He found it was the Lord Makalaurë, and he looked to be searching for someone.

Deciding it wasn't worth his time watching the second-born of Fëanaro, Erestor devoted his attention to the book in his hands, greedily taking in all of the knowledge it had to offer. As long as the Lord Makalaurë didn't disturb him, he was fine.

Speaking of which...

Erestor's ear twitched.

Why did it sound like the Lord Makalaurë was coming his way? He was in no mood to be social.

"Erestor,"

Said Elfling silently sighed, snapping his book shut and flashed a slightly irked, slightly curious, look at the young Lord standing to his left. How did the Lord know his name? Hardly any knew him. Oh, they knew him to be the son of a servant and that he preferred to keep the company of his books in his library. He rarely ever left the library, unless it was to return to his Atto's quarters to rest. "Do you require my assistance, Lord Makalaurë?" He neutrally asked, trying to sound as courteous as possible.

Makalaurë seemed to bite back a smirk, and Erestor's violet orbs narrowed.

What did this young Lord find funny?

"I do, as a matter of fact." Makalaurë replied, dipping his chin affirmatively. His warm blue eyes sparkled as he peered down at Erestor from where he stood, making Erestor wonder if he even wanted to know what the Lord Makalaurë wanted him to do. "I know that you have been getting along with Elerondo..."

"Hm, yes." Erestor hummed, seemingly uninterested as he toyed with the corner of the page he was on. "The supposed 'nephew of Nalara' Elfling." He pointedly replied. "'Getting along' is an overstatement. The accursed Elfling bombards me every chance he receives."

Makalaurë grinned. "Perceptive one, aren't you? You see things others do not."

Erestor frowned deeply. "I will have you know that it was quite obvious."

"Perhaps to you."

"I know who the Elfling is."

"I am not surprised."

Erestor hmphed in response, having already lost interest in the topic. "What is it you needed, Lord Makalaurë?"

"Please," Makalaurë dismissed the title with a wave of his hand, "I am only Makalaurë. I am no Lord."

Erestor eyed him for a long, scrutinizing, while before shrugging. "Quite true."

Makalaurë fought hard to keep his expression neutral. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Erestor averted his gaze, wondering if he had crossed the line. "Nothing."

Makalaurë didn't accept the answer. "That is a lie."

"How observant,"

The corner of Makalaurë's lips twitched upwards.

"But I am certain you did not come here to speak about Elerondo."

"No," Makalaurë agreed, "I did not." He clasped his hands together before him.

Erestor waited for him to speak again.

Makalaurë, seeing this, took this as his cue to continue. "I came to ask of you a favor."

Erestor didn't know if he had heard him correctly. Setting his book down in his lap, Erestor turned so he was facing the young Lord, a little incredulously. "You have a favor to ask of me..." He repeated, a little questioningly.

"Yes. You see, I have decided to write the play for the upcoming festival," Makalaurë said, reaching up and tugging a strange of his hair out of his face, "And Elerondo is performing in it...But his twin is not here, so," Makalaurë looked imploringly at Erestor, "I was hoping that you might be able to come and perform in the play as Elerondo's twin."

Erestor blinked.

Then blinked again.

"You wish for me to travel to Tirion...and perform in a play, as that Elfling's twin..?"

"Basically."

"We hardly look alike..."

"Matters not. Your hair color is nearly the same. The only difference is your height and eye color. We could just say you are his brother."

"Why would I do this..?"

"Because Elerondo looks up to you and would be thrilled to have you there."

"I..." Erestor looked down at his book, thinking over what Makalaurë had said. He brushed his fingers over the rough cover, pursing his lips. "I do not know if I can..."

"If you are concerned about your Atto, he will come with us."

Erestor rotated round to stare at Makalaurë. "You have already spoken to my Atto?"

"Yes." Makalaurë answered. "He would agree to it only if you wished to go."

Erestor couldn't believe it, but then again... He scowled lightly. "What agreement was there?"

Makalaurë shifted on his feet, gently raising a hand as if telling Erestor that it was nothing to worry about. "He and you would accompany me to Tirion as my guests for the holiday."

"...Guests?" Erestor had to make sure he had heard correctly.

Makalaurë smiled, and, oddly enough, it made Erestor feel more at ease. It was a warm, inviting smile, and it made the young Lord's eyes brighten. His eyes, Erestor noticed, looked aged. Older than what Makalaurë appeared to be.

Then again, looks can be deceiving. The young Lord was hiding some extraordinary secrets behind those blue eyes, Erestor could tell.

"Guests." Makalaurë affirmed. "You will be able to do as you please. I'm certain you have always wished to visit the the Archives of Tirion."

Erestor's eyes widened at the name and he nodded ecstatically.

Makalaurë chuckled. "I thought so."

Thought, or knew? Erestor asked himself, catching the knowing glint in Makalaurë's eyes. It was a bit unnerving, how well this ner knew him. Perhaps he'd heard of him, the Elfling who never left the library and taking in all of the knowledge the books had to offer.

It wouldn't be surprising.

He knew what people thought of him, and he didn't really care about their opinions. One day, he would become one of the best, perhaps even the best, and widely known scholar the world had to offer. He would show the Elves that even a low-life Elfling of a servant could grow to become like the most wealthy and educated of his kin.

"And, if you would like," Makalaurë added, "I could excuse your Ammë from her duties in Tirion so that your family may be able to celebrate the holiday altogether."

Erestor was stunned.

Why...Why would this Lord be so kind to him and his family? How did he even know about his Ammë? Celebrating this upcoming holiday as a family had been difficult for Erestor and his parents the past few years. His Atto worked for the Lord Fëanaro and his Ammë for the Lord Finwë, which meant they were rarely ever able to meet up as a family unless one of them were given leave from work.

Even then, they could only spend three to four days, perhaps a week if they were lucky, with one another as a family. It was the only way they could earn enough to support their small family. Oh, their Lords and the families they served were always so kind and considerate, offering to give them meals and inviting them to their Feasts, but the family always felt they were imposing.

"You would do that?"

Makalaurë nodded. "I would. My Andatar would understand, and I am certain my Father wouldn't mind."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you do such a thing for my family?"

"Your family deserves it, Erestor. You have done so much for my family, we can at least do something in return."

"I see..." Erestor whispered so softly Makalaurë had to strain his ears to hear him. His violet orbs were swirling with an unknown emotion and Erestor found, that for the first time, he was truly at a loss for what to say.

Makalaurë continued to stand there for a moment, gazing at Erestor with an unreadable expression. His eyes, however, expressed everything he was feeling at the moment. For once, Erestor didn't bother to read into them.

After a little time had passed, Makalaurë seemed to return back to the present and smiled warmly. "I had better go. No doubt Elerondo will come searching for me...Or perhaps one of my brothers, pleading for me to force him to take a nap." He laughed lightly, and even Erestor managed a small grin. He wouldn't lie and claim Elerondo irritated him. The Elfling was a bit bothersome, but he asked questions Erestor was more than happy to provide answers to. Elerondo didn't judge him, didn't keep his distance, or look down upon him because he was a servant's Elfling. It was...different, but also nice.

He had someone to talk to, if he wanted to. Not only that, but Elerondo always seemed to know when Erestor needed silence or time alone and he respected his wishes.

Erestor bit his lower lip, something he rarely ever did, and turned to find the Lord Makalaurë already halfway towards the library doors.

"Lo- Makalaurë!" the dark Elfling called after him. He nearly cringed from calling the young Lord by his name, but since Makalaurë had said for him to call him by his name, Erestor would.

Makalaurë paused, pivoting around to meet his gaze.

Erestor hesitated for a split second, but maintained eye contact. "I will do it."

A bright smile was his response.

* * *

 _ **~Duplicity~**_

The next day, Fëanaro, Nolofinwë's, and Erestor, as well as his Father, were packing for their trip to Tirion. Elrond had been so excited after learning Erestor would be tagging along and adamantly declared that he would help him pack his things. Erestor, after several failed attempts in convincing him that he didn't need any help- after all, he didn't have many belongings- but Elrondo wouldn't be deterred. Soon enough, Erestor relented and lead him to his Father's quarters.

Maglor and Turgon had helped one another pack, Aredhel found a way to have Nerdanel bring Thuringwethil along, and the families put everything they would need in the cart they were bringing along Erestor's Father had brought out.

Erestor's Father, a humble and ner by the name of Caladin, was the exact opposite of Erestor. Where Erestor was reserved, Caladin was friendly, and where Erestor was outspoken, Caladin was quiet. It was clear to Maglor that Caladin loved his only son and was willing to do anything for him. He encouraged Erestor in everything that he did and never tried to hold him back. He never made it seem as if he knew Erestor wouldn't get far because he was the son of a servant and a maid. Maglor could see he truly believed his son was capable of doing greater things than he or his wife could ever imagine.

As of now, Maglor and Caladin were loading up Aredhel's cases into the cart, and Maglor found himself enjoying the small conversation they were holding. The two had been talking about their sons, Maglor telling Caladin of Elerondo and Caladin of Erestor. Maglor smiled whenever he could hear the fondness in Caladin's voice as he spoke of his son.

"To be honest, Lord Makalaurë," Caladin was saying, grunting quietly when he accidentally bumped into the cart, "I was concerned for my son for the longest time."

Makalaurë turned towards him, curious. "Why is that, Caladin?"

Caladin glanced over to where his son and Elrond were studying a few different flowers, with Erestor pointing them out and telling Elrond about them. Elrond listened to everything he was saying.

"I feared Erestor would never...never have a friend like Elerondo. You probably know Erestor is...not exactly a social Elfling. He prefers books, and when he cannot read, he is out analyzing the world around him. His intellect is higher than Elflings his age, and that normally means Erestor is isolated from others. He has...never had anyone there for him." Caladin's shoulders drooped a little. "He is more intelligent than I, and I fear I cannot keep up with him. He knows so much, and I know so little. I do my best to learn as much as I can, but he is always far ahead of me. Elerondo has given him the companionship Erestor probably did not realize he needed. Ever since Erestor met Elerondo, it is all he will speak about to me." Caladin fixed Maglor with an immensely grateful look. "I cannot thank your son enough, Lord Makalaurë. I am glad Erestor has someone to talk to, someone who may understand him better than I or is willing to learn all that Erestor knows."

Maglor smiled fondly as he watched Elrond mention to Erestor about the potency of some of the flowers in healing remedies. He grinned at the astonishment reflected in Erestor's eyes as he agreed with Elrond.

"This one," he heard Elrond saying as the Elfling gently cupped an odd-shaped flower nearest him. Erestor leaned over his shoulder and listened to what he had to say. "This one make people sleep. It keep them out for long time."

The minstrel grinned when Erestor corrected Elrond's grammar, and the Elfling's face scrunched a little as he repeated what Erestor had said.

"I believe your son has done much for my own, too, Caladin." Maglor remarked, listening as Erestor patiently explained to Elrond about the complex grammar in the Quenya language. Elrond raptly paid attention to the mini-lesson. "Yes, I am glad for their friendship. Elerondo certainly needs someone like Erestor."

Caladin agreed silently, dark green eyes sparkling upon seeing the slight smile playing on his son's lips as Elrond continued to ask him questions.

"Yes, indeed. They need one another... Other than Elerondo, the only other person Erestor enjoys being with is his elder sister."

Maglor froze, blinking multiple times.

Had he heard him correctly?

Slowly looking over at Caladin, Maglor repeated what the Elf had said in his mind as they shut the back of the cart and locked it into place. "He has a sister?" Maglor asked, a little shocked.

He'd never known Erestor had a sister. Erestor had never mentioned anything about an elder sister to him in Middle-Earth. Then again, Erestor had always preferred never to speak of himself or his past, and Maglor had respected that. There were some times where he would mention his Father and Mother, but never once had he mentioned a sister.

Why was that?

Caladin nodded. "Yes. They are quite close, those two. It always pains them to be separated seeing as I work here and Laira is in Tirion with our daughter."

"What does she do?"

"Well, Laira, as you know, is in the service of the Lord Finwë, and our daughter is an actress, as well as a dancer." Caladin smiled softly as he thought about his family. "She is an eccentric one, my daughter. The polar opposite of Erestor, and yet, the two are inseparable. They write to one another often, sharing stories of what they have done or learned...They miss each other greatly." Sadness glittered in Caladin's green orbs and Maglor bit the inside of his cheek.

The minstrel reached over and grasped Caladin's shoulder. "You have the entire holiday to spend with your family, my friend."

Caladin brightened, though he was a little surprised by Maglor referring to him as a friend instead of seeing him as the poor servant he was. "Indeed, I do, my Lord."

"Makalaurë." Maglor automatically corrected, and Caladin appeared stunned.

"I couldn't-" 

"I insist." Maglor gently cut him off, and even though Caladin wished to protest against it, he dared not argue with the young Lord.

"Very well." Caladin agreed.

Their attention was snagged when they heard Erestor's scandalized shout and looked to find Elrond fleeing for his life with a murderous Erestor chasing after him. Elrond was completely unfazed by the fact that Erestor clearly wished to throttle him, the young half-Elven laughing brightly as he easily evaded Erestor.

The family of Fëanaro watched the two run back and forth, Elrond purposefully provoking Erestor by slowing down then speeding away when Erestor was close enough to tackle him.

The families shared a laugh as the chase continued, until Fëanaro announced that it was time to leave for Tirion.

* * *

 ** _~Duplicity~_**

 ** _There you have it! I do hope it was alright. Bit shorter than I expected, but oh well. I updated, right?  
Read and review if you'd like! _**


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